Another Country
by cslev
Summary: Proposed continuation of the TV series "Traveler," Will-centric with female OC. I do not claim to own the series, characters, plot or dialogue. Please read and review.
1. Ch 1 The Betrayal

_**ANOTHER COUNTRY **_

_**Chapter 1 The Betrayal**_

_**Will stared at the burning wreckage of the limousine in disbelief. **_With pounding heart he glanced up at the lit windows of the Citizen building, thinking it was only a matter of seconds before they were seen and the chase began all over again. His thoughts raced as he considered the possibility of Freed blowing himself up just to keep his secret, or if another black op unit had interfered and wiped him out just to keep him from talking. If the former was true they had little proof left to clear themselves with Freed gone; if the latter was true, then once again he'd been betrayed by his country and government. But whatever the case may be, he knew he had to get Tyler and Jay far away from this place. Clamping a hand onto Tyler's shoulder he met his confused gaze with a frown.

"We have to go—now!" he ordered, scanning their surroundings before running back toward Tyler's SUV. To his surprise they followed, running toward where they'd hidden the vehicle in the alley with renewed surges of adrenaline. Clutching his side where the gunshot wound burned and throbbed, he gritted his teeth and ran as fast as he could manage.

"What the hell went wrong?" Tyler shouted, passing him in a sprint.

"Why didn't you warn us he'd do himself in?" Jay accused, coming up to his side. "Or maybe that was the plan all along, huh Will?"

"Shut up and run!" he ground out, surging ahead to catch up with Tyler, who was already unlocking the driver's side door as he ran to the vehicle.

Jay ran toward the passenger door as Tyler popped the rear driver's side door for him. He skidded to a stop as the engine roared to life. Jumping in as he accelerated, he threw himself onto the seat and slammed the door shut.

"Go, go, go!" he shouted as Tyler burnt rubber, backing up and plunging them deeper into the recesses of the dark alley. Gripping his side with one hand and the door handle with the other, he managed to shift himself higher in order to see out the windshield. Tyler hit the brakes and they spun halfway around, speeding off in the opposite direction.

"Now where the hell do you suggest we go?" Tyler shouted, running a hand through his hair and glaring in the rear view mirror at him. "That lunatic blew himself up, I tell you—"

"We don't know that!" he shot back, wincing in pain as he reached for the bag of first aid supplies he'd lifted from the Chinese grocer's. Pulling out another gauze pad, he leaned back and lifted shirt. The blood-soaked double bandage already needed changing, which wasn't a good sign.

"No we don't know a damned thing anymore, do we?" Tyler agreed, glancing at Jay just as he turned to see what Will was doing.

"You're bleeding like a stuffed pig!" he cried out, eyeing Will with shock. "We've got to get you to a hospital—"

"No hospital, no doctor!" he ordered, a wave of nausea surging within him. He swallowed hard, quickly dispelling it. "All gunshot wounds are reported to the police, which means they'll find us for sure."

"Then what do you propose we do, huh Will?" he argued, glancing at Tyler for his support. "How much longer do you think you can go with that kind of an injury? As a matter of fact how much longer do you think we can all stay on the run Will?"

"We've managed pretty well for over a week," he panted, dropping the soaked gauze into the bag before peeling the wrapping off another two pads. Pressing them gently over the exit wound, he knew he needed some kind of treatment before both wounds got infected.

"I'm heading for my father's condominium in Albany," Tyler declared, switching lanes to get onto the interstate. He glanced into the rear view mirror and met his gaze. "Like it or not that's where we're headed."

"Then drop me off at the Amtrak station there," he stated, applying pressure along the edge of the adhesive tape, a gesture which hurt more than it should.

"Oh and where will you be running off to, now that you've gotten us into even more trouble?" Jay wanted to know. "But I suppose that's what you're best at, huh Will—running away."

He looked up, eyeing him in challenge. "I'm just following standard procedures," he stated, pursing his lips as he sat higher. "And you should know by now that we can't stay together."

"Oh sure, I know exactly what to do," he said sarcastically, turning back around with a disgusted wave of his hand. "Like any of us really knows."

"Someone's following us," Tyler said soberly, eyeing the side mirror as he sped up. "There's some traffic, but this guy's definitely tailing us."

Will tensed and glanced back, spotting the black oversized SUV as he gripped the back of their seat. "Lose him or we're all dead," he warned.

"I'll try," Tyler said tightly, concentrating on speeding up and shifting lanes. Sure enough the black SUV followed, speeding up as well.

"It's probably just our good friends from the FBI," Jay stated sarcastically.

"There's a station in Westchester, if you can make it onto the beltway," Will told Tyler, ignoring Jay. At least Tyler didn't give him as hard a time as Jay did, though Will understood where his animosity was coming from. They were closer friends than he and Tyler had ever been, without intended it to be that way. It was just that he and Jay shared similar backgrounds than he and Tyler did.

"So what's the plan, Will?" Jay wanted to know, turning around to look at him when he didn't answer.

"Better you don't know," he stated, glancing back at the SUV. Suddenly it veered into the adjacent lane and sped up. "He's coming up on your right—get down!"

Reaching beneath the seat for the gun he heard shots spit at the glass and break it. The passenger seat was littered with broken glass which slid toward him as they swerved into the left lane, cutting off a tractor trailer. The driver honked loudly as Will pushed the button and lowered the window, getting off a few shots. The tires of the SUV screeched as it swerved and cut back in behind them. It sped up toward them from the left lane but the tractor trailer cut it off, giving them an escape route.

Will swung, holding his pistol high as he saw the SUV contact the back of the 18 wheeler. Then it spun out of control while the other trucks dominating the highway honked threateningly. They watched as it hit the guardrail, ran up and over it and into the median. Lowering his gun he sat back, closing his eyes at the inevitable.

"You got him!" Jay cried excitedly, leaning around to watch the vehicle ignite as they passed. "Up in flames for him!"

"Yeah he deserved it," Tyler said less enthusiastically, glancing at Will's sober expression in the mirror. "You know who it was, don't you?"

"Not anymore," he sighed, leaning back and feeling weaker and weaker. The wound was more serious than he'd anticipated, and combined with not having slept for two days it was taking its toll.

"It must have been that big black guy— you know Will, the one who's really tough, right?" Tyler wanted to know.

"The funny thing was, he actually helped us escape FBI custody," Jay stated, turning to look at him. "He was at our hotel, then followed you up to Maine. He shot you with a tracking device when they grabbed you and threw you in a white van…whoever _they_ were."

_That would be Max…_ Too tired to open his eyes, he sighed. "We _used _to be on the same team."

"Well apparently that hasn't changed," Jay drawled, turning back around. "You spies should all get your acts together—"

"And do what exactly?" Will shot back, fed up with Jay's attitude.

"Oh I don't know—how about be on the same page for once?" Jay complained.

"Surely you realize there's a power shift going on in our government, " Will retorted, "which is why everyone's vying for control and until some semblance of order presents itself we're pretty much on our own."

"No Will, you're on _your_ own!" he shot back, shaking his head. "Tyler and I just want our lives back."

"And you think I don't?" he shot back, telling himself it wasn't worth defending his position. Anyway he didn't really have one at the moment, except that of fall guy. But he was not going to stay in that position if there was anything that could be done about it."

"Lay off him, Jay," Tyler sighed, taking the ramp onto the northbound beltway. "We're just as involved as he is…"

"Yeah, because of him!" Jay cried. "And just for clarification's sake I'm not the one with a corrupt boss _or _father!"

Will met Tyler's gaze in the mirror, though he said nothing in response. "That was a low blow, Jay," he warned.

"Well I'm sorry but it's the truth," Jay said to Tyler before glancing out his window. "Now that I'm thinking of it you can drop me off at the Amtrak station too— I'm going back to New Haven and help Kim."

"You're crazy, man!" Tyler objected, glancing at him. "Or did you forget the FBI has her in a cage? They were going to _execute_ us without the slightest concern, and if it hadn't been for Max we'd already be dead. So get off your high horse and face reality, will you?"

"Yeah, right," Jay mumbled, not bothering to answer him.

"What's the name of the female agent who shot me?" Will wanted to know, already forming a plan in his mind.

"Agent Jan Marlow," Jay said without much interest.

"She was the only one who seemed like she might believe us," Tyler sighed.

"If by some chance she blows the whole thing out of the water we might have our answer," Will stated. "But give her some time to see if she's brave enough."

"She was the only one we've been able to trust," Jay complained, "until you showed up and screwed it up to get us back on your side!"

"Look there _are_ no sides, ok?" Will shouted in frustration. "Or haven't you heard anything I've been saying all this time? None of us are going to know which end is up, not until the dust settles. So we're just going to have to wait, stay low and watch."

"Like you're going to do, riding off into the sunset?" Jay said, half turning toward him. "I'm through with taking your advice, _Will _or whatever your name is! There are only so many lies a person can take before it's over!"

"Fine then!" Will shot back,"go—and have a nice life keeping your head in the sand!"

"I plan to, thank you very much!"

Tyler eyed him in the mirror as he leaned back and sighed heavily, grimacing in pain. "Look I'm sorry," he breathed, eyeing them with sudden remorse. "This whole thing has just snowballed completely out of control—"

"Yeah you got that right," Jay harrumphed.

Tyler drove north as an uncomfortable silence filled the temporary bubble of protection his car provided. Will rested his head back and stared out the window, thinking of all the times he'd struggled with keeping his identity a secret from them. He'd been denied a normal life for most of his adult years, and was sorely tempted to defend his actions. But he knew that he couldn't afford to do so, for it would only put them in more danger.

From the perspective of his position as a government black-ops operative he knew this was all his fault, for he'd disobeyed orders to blow up the museum with them in it. But after wrestling with the twists and turns that position had taken he'd finally decided to go with his gut. Saving their lives had cost him dearly, and he had to admit that sparing them offered them little chance of a life from now on, unless they too disappeared under deep cover. His one conviction was that his position and his organization had changed drastically, and he'd never signed up to kill civilians even though the terrorist attack on their country had blurred the lines of military-civilian status considerably.

With a deep sigh he thought back to the days of his innocence when he'd signed up for ROTC and taken the oaths needed to defend his country by military service. He'd had such pride and confidence in this government, which had in the end betrayed him and now treated him like a criminal. Gone were the statutes and foundation this country had been built upon, and with them all his rights has gone as well. Jay and Tyler would never understand the system the way he'd come to understand it, but even in his bitterness he had to admit it was better that they didn't.

Less than an hour after bidding them a curt goodbye he sat huddled in the back corner of an Amtrak coach bound for the Northwest, a sketchy plan beginning to form in his mind. He remembered a few details and a location that might prove suitable for him to hide out for a while and monitor how things developed, if indeed he could convince anyone to help him. Shivering beneath the woolen blanket provided by the night porter, he gritted his teeth against the pain in his side and pulled out the tiny bottle of whisky he'd bought just before the club car closed for the night. Unscrewing the top, he lifted it to his lips and took a few swallows, feeling its warmth slide down his esophagus and settle above his stomach. Hopefully it would dull the pain, since the only meds he'd found were extra strength NSAIDs.

Replacing the bottle, he stared out the window at the dark landscape passing before him. His mind tried to process all that had happened in the last week, and as the miles between his last assignment and the next lengthened he felt the alcohol begin to relax him. With its comfort came the all too familiar weight of depression, threatening to descend upon him yet again and make him its prisoner. Resisting the temptation to yield to it he nevertheless faced his current reality with somber resignation. He had to disappear again, this time maybe for good. And he couldn't go back to working at what he'd done for the last 10 years of his life. He'd lost his past and his future, and there was only the present. All his plans had failed, and he was alone. Closing his eyes, he felt a different pain sear his heart and steal his breath.

_Maya…_

His mind filled suddenly with flashes of memory, from the first time he'd laid eyes up until he'd seen the vivid photograph provided him as evidence of her execution. His throat clenched with emotion as grief and regret filled his heart. He remembered trying to keep his distance from her, pushing her away with the warning to have as little to do with him as possible. But his six month cover as a small town resident of Maine entering the graduate program at Yale had backfired. Living in such close quarters with her and pretending she was his girlfriend had proven too much for him. He remembered the day he'd finally cast off the desperate loneliness that had been his only companion for years, allowing himself the luxury of falling headlong into an obviously ill-fated love affair with her. Now she was dead, and it was his fault.

Shrugging off the memories he pulled himself together, took out the whisky and drained the bottle. It was his only comfort now, one he'd never used before. Hard liquor was the devil's curse, he remembered hearing all the years when he'd lived at home. Smiling as he envisioned himself as a homeless alcoholic, he appreciated the irony of his situation. In that role no one would notice him, and it would be a relatively safe place to hide. _It might be fun, actually_ he thought, placing the empty into the cup holder. _Maybe then somebody might come and save me…_

Closing his eyes, he repented yet again for what he'd done. Repentance was vital in his line of work, even though it brought him no comfort. He'd been trained to fight and kill, and was paid well for it. Whenever he wrestled with guilt and remorse he'd executed his repentance entirely by faith, knowing he certainly didn't deserve forgiveness despite secretly longing for it. He imagined himself as a boy back home, running through the wheat fields in the heat of summer, all brightness and peace. But he couldn't go home, not until he was finally out of this business once and for all. _If that was even possible. _

"Dear God," he croaked hoarsely, compared where he'd come from and where he now was, "please, forgive me…"

"_**Agent Marlow, do you even have the remotest idea of how much trouble you're in right now?" **_the bureau head said quietly. She looked up, noting his menacing expression as he scowled down at her. Summoning her courage, she nodded.

"I know this sounds crazy sir, but if you'll just hear me out I can explain—"

"Explain what?" he demanded quietly, glancing toward the window in his door. Outside the room was busy with activity, even for this late at night. "How can you possibly explain the fact that you've brought up charges of corruption against your own boss and co-workers?"

"But it doesn't end there, Sir!" she insisted. "The corruption goes even higher than that, but if you'll just look at the evidence you'll see—"

"That's not up to me, but to the internal affairs investigation which by the way will also be leveled against. Which is why I need to convince you to change your mind. This department has had an impeccable record up until now, so why don't you just let us bring in those three terrorists and hand them over to Homeland Security?"

"But Homeland Security's Chief Freed is behind the whole thing," she screeched in frustration. "Furthermore those young men are not terrorists—"

"You're wrong! The one who calls himself Traveler is definitely a terrorist, a rogue agent who's gone off the grid judging by the consensus—"

"Will Traveler is no terrorist, sir and I can prove it," she insisted, cringing inwardly at his glare of denial. "Sir all I want is an in-depth review of everything that's happened since the Drexler bombing—in particular Will Traveler's involvement with Chief Freed, especially their work in Operation Hometown."

"Surely you realize this will go above us to the Department of Defense, don't you?"

"Yes Sir I am aware of that fact, but it's necessary to get the real story and exonerate both Traveler and his roommates."

He shook his head. "Freed is dead, so what's your point? We have the note from the terrorist group claiming responsibility!"

"Sir we are talking about high level government sanctioning of terrorist activity through black-ops involvement, something that reaches far beyond any Will Traveler or Chief Freed—"

"And how could you possibly know that, Agent Marlow?"

"Because of the money trail," she sighed in frustration. "Look at the file, Sir—the money is the clue, and it's the only way we can trace all this back to its origins."

He squinted at her suspiciously. "Awfully eager to defend Will Traveler and his buddies, aren't you? Is it because they're good looking young men, if I've heard correctly—"

"Sir please!" she objected, clenching her fists. "This is about finding the truth at whatever cost! It's easy letting Will Traveler be the fall guy, but why do that when we could go after the big fish instead?"

"You want me to bring down half the government with this foolishness, Marlow?"

She sighed heavily, holding his accusing gaze. "Yes sir…if that's what it takes for justice to be served."

He stared at her a moment before leaning forward and punching the intercom button. "Shirley—set up a call with whatever federal judge is on duty right now," he ordered. "Wake him up if necessary and tell him it's an emergency."

After a second's pause she answered. "Yes sir—I'll do my best."

He planted his hands on his hips and nodded toward the chair. "You'd better sit down, Agent Marlow—it's going to be a long night."

_**Clenching his teeth to keep them from chattering, Will pulled the black down parka tighter. **_Gasping in pain as its contacted his side, he blinked several times to clear the moisture from his eyes and found focusing difficult. He was losing it fast but still he waited, staring at the office building and relieved when the lights finally went out. Tensing as the doors opened and a family came out he counted seven altogether, with the children ranging in ages from two to high school, though judging by their clothing they were no doubt homeschoolers. He watched them pile into their van and eventually drive off, shifting his attention back to the library. Glancing around and seeing no one, he started toward the back entrance. There was only one car in the small lot, the old Subaru registered in her name and confirming his research. Climbing the three stairs at the back, he pressed against the wall and listened intently, eyeing his surroundings. The buildings adjacent to this one were empty this time of night, so he reached out and popped the flimsy lock, entered and stood in the dim light until his eyes adjusted. He studied her carefully, making sure it was really her.

"That's right," she breathed into the receiver, nodding once as she flicked off the computer. "It should arrive on Monday…yes, we're open at 1:00 every Monday….you're welcome. Good night."

With a frustrated sigh which sounded loud in the cavernous room she went back to work, turning off the lamp and bending to pick up her messenger bag. Dropping it onto the counter she reached for her coat and pulled it on, mumbling to herself as she worked.

"Yes, we're open every single Monday of eternity Mrs. Hughes, as you very well know," she mumbled, fastening the buttons down the front. "And yes it takes Interlibrary Loan at least three days to process your request," she sighed, crossing the strap of her bag over her chest. "And yes you do have to pay late fees, which frankly aren't that much for a rich old lady like you! And might I say that considering our extended hours you should have had plenty of time after work to get in here to return your late books! We close at 6 pm every weekday except Fridays, and I'm sure you remember that we're—"

"You're open til 9," he finished as she came toward him. Gasping in fear she stopped, pressing a hand over her heart as she stared at him in the dim light. After a moment her eyes widened even further.

"I know that voice," she said quietly, holding her ground as he took a step closer, into the light. He felt lightheaded for a moment as recognition dawned in her expression. "Will?" she gasped, "Will Traveler?"

He nodded, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "Annie Greene," he breathed, fighting his pain as she came closer and stopped with arm's reach of him.

"But—what on earth are you doing _here?_"

He choked out a hoarse laugh. "I came to see you…"

Her eyes widened even more before she tilted her head slightly. "You look…you don't look well—"

"I need your help," he admitted, hating the fact that he had to reach out to someone and praying that it wouldn't get her killed. "There's no one else."

She came up to him and took his arm, looking up into his eyes. "You look feverish—"

"I've been shot," he croaked, shaking his head. "There was a misunderstanding and—"

"Shot? Oh my God Will—let me help you," she insisted, leading him back down the corridor. "The health clinic's on the other side of town, but there's a doctor there till 11—"

"No doctor," he warned, gripping her arm as he leaned back against the door jamb. He could hear the wind howling around the building and braced himself to go back out into the cold. "Please—I need you to help me, and I know you're a bio major—"

"I can't treat you with that background—"

"Please, Annie—"

"especially a gunshot wound!"

"You can do it," he insisted, shoving the door open. "No one can know, or they'll find me and kill me!"

"Who, Will?" she gulped, slipping her arm around his back as they descended the stairs.

"Better you don't know," he panted, resting at the bottom of the stairs. "Please Annie, I've got nowhere else to go!"

"Ok but wait," she urged, lifting his arm over her shoulders, "if you lose your balance and fall I'll never be able to get you into the car."

He slowed his steps, feeling increasingly lightheaded. Leaning heavily on her support he eyed the car, thinking it looked like it was a million miles away. "God— I'm sorry to ask you," he choked, shivering violently before he leaned against the passenger side door while she unlocked it.

"Easy," she said softly, glancing around at the deserted buildings. "Now be careful—there you go!"

He fell heavily into the seat, leaning his head back as a wave of nausea hit him. He felt her lift his legs and shift them inside, groaning at the pain the movements caused. His whole left side clenched with searing pain as she shut his door, then went around to the other side. She got in and shut her door, turning the key to start the engine as he shivered again.

"We'll have heat in a minute," she said, her eyes wide with concern. "You really need to see a doctor, Will—I'm no substitute."

He tried to focus on her face, feeling spaced and weaker by the second. "I can't…please…"

She leaned toward him to fasten his seat belt but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Don't!"

She looked up at him. "You have to buckle up Will, or you'll go sliding off—"

"Can't," he moaned, curling his arm around his middle. "I'm shot in the side…" he said, gagging with dry heaves.

"God—how long have you been like this?"

"Two days," he groaned, resting his temple against the window and closing his eyes.

"It must be infected by now—why didn't you get treated before? And how did you get here—"

"Train…" he sighed just as darkness rushed up and swallowed him whole.

_**Annie Greene pulled up in front of her uncle's veterinary hospital and set the e brake. **_Glancing worriedly at her passenger, she texted her uncle who was thankfully working tonight, as he'd informed her 20 minutes before. Despite their heated argument he'd agreed to let them come, stating that he'd give his assistant the night off.

"He'll be right out," she breathed, reaching over to touch Will's cheek, which felt cold and sweaty. Glancing up she saw Howie coming down the ramp toward them and shoved open her door. Climbing out she glanced at him in apology before he frowned at the dark form slumped inside her car.

"What's this all about, Annie?" he accused, "some friend of yours has a gunshot wound?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down!" she ordered, going to the passenger door. "He showed up unannounced at the library, saying they'd kill him if they knew he was here!"

"Who's they?" he growled before leaning in to touch Will's chest. After a moment she heard him say gently, "hey buddy, we're gonna take care of you now, but can you help us get you out?"

"Hummhh?" she heard Will moan. Bending to watch, she saw him try to open his eyes and exchanged worried glances with her uncle.

"Ok, easy now," Howie urged, leaning in to slip an arm behind his back. She stepped out of the way as he lifted Will's legs and planted his feet on the ground. "Get on his other side, Annie."

She moved into position, warning him before they lifted him out. "Watch his left side," she said quietly before they got him to his feet. He swayed before Howie caught him.

"We're gonna take it slow up the ramp," he lectured as he pulled Will's arm over his shoulders. Together they coaxed him the 20 steps into the hospital where he told her to bolt the door.

A blast of warm air hit them as they started toward the operating room where she'd assisted him many times. Panting with effort and trying to ignore his gasps of pain, she felt exhausted by the time they'd sat him on the table and started to remove his coat. He gasped softly until they eased him onto his back, then his head rolled to one side.

"He's out," her uncle stated as he checked his heart rate and temperature while she eased off his hiking boots.

"He's burning up—103," he stated, looking up at her. "His heart rate's over 100 and I don't even want to know his blood pressure. Your friend needs a hospital, and I'm not talking animal hospital."

"I'm sorry Uncle—who knows who's after him, maybe the Mafia!" she hissed, moving to his side and staring at his blood-soaked shirt.

He pulled an oxygen mask closer and turned the knob, adjusting the volume. "Keep the oxygen on while I wash up," he ordered after placing it over Will's face and heading toward the sink area.

She tried not to panic at the grayish pallor of his skin and the beads of perspiration dotting his forehead. Gently unbuttoning his shirt, she heard her uncle's steps come up.

"Just cut it off him," he ordered, throwing the paper towels into the trash and reaching for exam gloves. "We need to see that wound."

She got up and took a pair of scissors from the tray at her side, then began to uncover the wound. Will turned his head toward her, muttering softly under his breath.

"He's coming to," she announced as she worked, finally exposing his chest. Staring at the quarter-sized hole low at his side, she froze.

"Don't let him take the mask off," he urged, whistling at the sight of the wound. "I'm putting an IV in."

She watched as he expertly anesthetized his hand and inserted the line. Then he leaned closer to study the wound.

"You sure you know how to treat humans?" she tried joking, watching as Will's expression began to relax as the anesthesia took effect.

"You kiddin?" he laughed, removing the oxygen and dabbing Will's side with pads of gauze. "I was a combat medic before I went to vet school on the GI Bill." He tossed the bloodied pads into the trash and stood up. "Now help me turn him onto his good side so I can see the other wound."

She gaped up at him in surprise. "You were? And what 'other wound'? Was he shot more than once?"

He gently lifted Will's arm as she helped turn Howie turn him onto his good side, placing a foam wedge beneath his back. "See? This one's much smaller," he pointed at Will's back, "typical entrance wound."

She was stunned, and eyed Will with growing concern as her uncle took a blood sample. "You mean he was shot in the back?"

"Indeed he was," he said in a calm voice that further unnerved her. Glancing down at Will's peaceful expression, she saw him in a different light and began to question his coming to her.

"Do you think he came here not because of me, but because of your combat training?" she said quietly, feeing unnerved and sensing that some giant cosmic plan might be falling into place. She had always had her doubts about Will, for he seemed more capable and mature than most of the other grad students she knew. As if that wasn't really who he was.

"How would he find that out, when you didn't even know," Howie said, glancing up at her as she stared down at their patient. "By the way, where did you meet him? In grad school?"

She nodded. "Yeah…he tutored me in organic chemistry, but I always thought he was above that, like on a much higher level. "

"Sure he wasn't a Ph.D. candidate?"

"No, he said he was working on his master's," she sighed, watching him clean the wound and slip on h is magnifiers. "And he wouldn't take any money for the tutoring."

"That's because you're so pretty," he sighed, glancing up at her. "Hand me that probe, will you? After I repair any damaged tissue and stitch him up, I'll need your help changing him."

"I'm sorry to dump all this on you," she explained, trying to hide her embarrassment at the thought of stripping somebody like Will. He was a great guy but far too attractive she thought, glancing down at the light dusting of hair low across his abdomen, then at the fine lines of his muscular arms and chest.

"Thanks," he said, taking the probe from her hand as he eyed her critically. "You know I'm not blind, Annie. How long you been sweet on him?"

She pulled her gaze from Will and stared at her uncle. "Honestly Uncle Howard, he's just a friend."

"'Uncle Howard?'" he repeated knowingly. "'Friend' huh? How come he came all this way to see you?"

"Like he said, he had no one else to go to," she explained with a shrug, watching him probe and clean the back wound. As he began to stitch the different layers of skin she glanced away, feeling queasy.

"Hey go check on his blood work, will ya?" he said distractedly. "We need to know what we're dealing with… it should be finished in about 10 minutes."

She went into the sample room, collected the bandages needed and finally found the silver nitrate. The monitor beeped and spit out his labs, which she tore off and carried with the other supplies back into the OR.

"Oh good you got the stuff," Howie breathed, still stitching the outer layer closed. "Read me the abnormals?"

"Sodium is low, electrolytes way off, white blood cell counts off the charts…hematocrit low-normal."

"As expected…I'd say it's a clear cut case of penetrating abdominal trauma with stage 4 hypovolemic shock with weak pulse, a bit of tachypnea, low systolic BP, cool and pale sweaty skin, slow capillary refill of the nail beds—"

"I'm impressed," she smiled when he looked up again.

"Yeah well we'll see what real impressiveness is when he doesn't develop peritonitis," he groaned, stretching his shoulders back. "Help me bandage him up, then we'll deal with the front, ok?"

They worked together in silence, taking much more time with the larger exit wound near his left lower side. She increased the level of sedation before the wound was thoroughly probed, rinsed, debrided and stitched in all levels. Howie put in a drain and closed the remaining surface, which they dressed and wrapped in a compression wrap. Then he did an external exam, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Well my guess is he'll recover well enough, but without a CT scan there's no way to be sure the bullet didn't nick the peritoneum. But so far there are no bruits and no diminished bowel sounds. His abdomen is extremely tender but there's no rebound or distension."

She nodded, not quite understanding it all. "So he'll be ok?"

"Pray that he is," he sighed, nodding toward his clothes. "We have to strip and wash him before we're done so I'll need your help. You call your Mom and tell her anything?"

"I just said I'd be by in the morning—I didn't want to worry her."

"So if she calls your place she won't get the answering machine and worry?"

"No—I told her I'm not keeping my land line so she'll call my cell."

"Good thinking, but you need to tell her," he advised. "Otherwise you'll have a lot of explaining to do about your friend here."

"But how can I explain what I don't even know?"

"You'll think of something," he said with a slight smile, reaching to unfasten Will's belt. "You work that end, I'll work this one."

"Yeah well just warn me before I see something I've no right to see," she said, pulling off Will's socks and stuffing them into his hiking boots.

"You're not even curious?" he joked, unzipping the fly as she looked back down and started to wash his feet.

"I didn't say that…"

"I'm draping him so your feminine sensibilities aren't offended," he huffed, unfurling a sheet over Will's torso. Ignoring him, she grabbed the bottom edges of his jeans and pulled, and together they stripped him beneath the covering.

"Can I wash his things in your machine?" she checked, wondering if it was full and thinking he'd let her fold and sort whatever was in there without a moment's hesitation.

"Yeah go ahead, but don't worry—Marcie already did what was there before she left."

"I'm so grateful," she smiled, carrying Will's things into the laundry room. She dumped his jeans, briefs and socks into the washer and started it, turning to the sink and trying to wash out as much blood as she could from his flannel and tee shirts. But they needed to soak overnight, so she filled a pan and set them in the utility sink for now.

An hour later they had Will settled comfortably on the sofa bed in her uncle's office, which she'd made up well as comfortably as possible. Howie left for home to feed his dogs while she locked herself in and sat down wearily at Will's side. Reaching over to tug the sheet and light blanket higher up his chest she eyed his IV and checked his vitals again. Then, leaning her head back against the upholstered chair she sighed tiredly, her gaze traveling slowly over his features. She listened to the sound of his evened out breathing, grateful that the meds were forcing his fever down. Studying the masculine line of his slightly parted lips, she say how dry and parched they looked and made a mental note to buy some lip balm the next day.

Lifting her gaze to his black hair, she wondered why he'd died it and when. It had been an attractive dark blonde with lighter highlights from the sun. Then it occurred to her that he might be trying to disguise himself. She wondered if he'd put contacts in to change the color of his eyes from that amazing dark blue she remembered. They'd have to check that in the morning because it would be foolish disturbing him until he'd had a chance to get some rest. Shifting her attention to his broad shoulders and muscular arms she admired the fine condition of his body. He'd always looked athletic, and she'd seen him a few times jogging with his roommate Jay. They seemed to get along well enough, which made her wonder why he hadn't gone to either of his roommates for help. They'd only graduated a week ago and had packed up for their cross-country trip while she was still completing her first year. Will had wished her a good summer and assured her that she had what it took to do well her remaining year. His facebook was still active, and she'd wished him success in his job search and a good summer. Other than that last few minutes together, she'd not expected to see him again. And she certainly never would have imagined he'd appear practically on her doorstep, needing her help.

_What's happened to you, Will?_ She wondered, studying the fine contours of his face and high cheekbones. As the hours wore on and he slept peacefully, she fought sleep as she let her mind drift to memories of the past. Howie was right, she'd secretly liked Will and wondered if he had a girlfriend.

_Of course he'd have a girlfriend…_she sighed, half asleep. _Someone who was rich and beautiful, one of the popular girls…not like me…_

But when she thought of the brilliant Will Traveler sharing the same OR table as the dogs and cats of their humble town outside of Vancouver, she had to smile and agree. For whatever reason, he'd ended up here. And he'd kept her in mind when he needed help.

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_

,:


	2. Ch 2 The Aftermath

_**Chapter 2 The Aftermath**_

_**Jay stared at the photo of himself with Kim, feeling a pain in his chest. **_He remembered their argument with bitterness, but the memories of their years together still held him bound to her. Over the phone she'd refused to come with him to the D.C. office of the FBI, stating that she'd had enough and ended the call before it could be traced. He'd wrestled with the temptation to go with Tyler and disappear, but he just couldn't bring himself to run. He had to turn himself in and hope for the best, trusting Agent Marlow's knowledge of what had happened and her shared desire to uncover the truth. It was all he had, since Will had also disappeared.

_Coward!_ he thought, amazed to have found out that his former best friend was an undercover agent of the Fourth Branch. Yet like Tyler he also had vanished into thin air.

"I'm not going to run, no matter what either of you do," he vowed, turning toward the door and gripping the handle of his overnight bag tight. Turning to take one last look at his boxed-up apartment he sighed with regret, shaking his head. "Guess this is goodbye, at least for now."

At the door he checked his Acela ticket again, eyed the clock and picked up the bills he had to drop in the mail. He had just enough money to pay them in advance without attracting too much attention to the load of cash Will had given him to split with Tyler. Feeling a stab of guilt for taking it, he hardened his heart against Will and let himself out.

_**Tyler slid his sunglasses back up his nose, **_assuring himself that he wasn't being followed after all. Quickening his pace nonetheless he headed up the dusty street back toward the attic room he'd rented, clutching a bag of groceries in one hand. He imagined Jay sitting at FBI headquarters and telling their story, feeling sorry for his friend. Jay was always so hopeful, and believed completely in the system. But he knew better. He and Will both knew better.

Climbing the stairs, he inserted his key into the lock and entered the furnace-like heat of the room. Locking it behind him, he dropped the bag onto the table and pulled his mail from his pocket, quickly sorting through it. Most of the posts were for the former occupant, but there was one which looked suspiciously like a greeting card. Tearing it open, he lifted it to his nose and breathed in the perfumed scent, smiling at his father's cleverness. The pink stationary bore his father's bold handwriting, and though there were three pages only the first one had a message for him. He noted the address and set it onto his table, staring out the window opposite him. At least his father had made sure he was set up temporarily, and would contact him where he could go next. The plan was to keep moving for the next few months, then finally settle without even his father's knowing where. With a tense sigh of frustration he unpacked the groceries, wondering again at Will's fate.

_He can take care of himself, _his conscience told him but he shook his head in annoyance. Will had been shot clean through his side, and he sensed that he'd lay low as well for fear of his injury being reported if treated. His feelings for Will were mixed, but he had the overwhelming conviction that Will had been just as unwittingly used as they all had, only he'd found out about sooner. His former roommate had been a great friend, though they hadn't been as close as he would have liked. It amazed him how well Will had masqueraded as a graduate student when he was in reality a professional soldier. How had he managed to ace his exams and win the approval of his department head, who despite being a friend of his father's had never showed him any mercy by granting him some leeway in his own exams. But with Will things had been different. Old Professor Harding had clearly admired Will and recommended him for the Ph.D. program. Even more laughable was the fact that Will had accepted, despite his obvious other career plans.

"Well, wherever you are," he sighed, glancing out his window, "I hope we meet up someday…just to satisfy my own curiosity."

_**Annie gently touched the cloth to his temple, following his movements in an effort to wipe away the perspiration that trickled down his face. **_Reaching out her other hand she held his shoulder down, dabbing the skin beneath his jaw and continuing down the side of his throat. He turned his head away, murmuring something in his delirium, his deep voice raspy. She worried about his escalating fever and bit her lower lip, moving on to dab at his chest with the cloth. Taking note of the faint scar high on his left shoulder, she studied the other scars along his collarbone, the one on the right side of his jaw and the various other scars, not forgetting the ones crossing his upper back. she had the nagging suspicion there were even more hidden beneath the sheet where the waistband of his navy boxers peeked out. He moaned and called something out in a language she didn't understand, and had to press his shoulders down to keep him from rising. The heavy bandage at his side folded, causing him to gasp in pain and lie back.

"Good—try to lie still," she encouraged, amazed when he obeyed. As he pushed his head back into the pillow she reached up, smoothing a lock of hair back from his forehead. "Good…we don't want you to pull out your IV and start all over," she sighed, dabbing his chest with the cloth.

He turned his head to one side, catching her hand before he sighed deeply and stilled. She stroked her thumb across his, eyeing the sculpted muscles of his chest and its light sprinkling of dark hair in the. Following the line of indentation between his ribs she noted another area just above his waistband, shooting her gaze back up to face. His hand fell slack in her grip as his eyes moved beneath his lids. She wondered what disturbed him so often when he lay between wakefulness and sleep, for it was clear to her that something tormented him. As he whispered in an even different language she watched the tip of his tongue slip out and moisten his lips and stared in fascination as their fine masculine curve. His lower lip was fuller and did strange things to her insides, tempting her though she couldn't understand why. Studying the dark eyelashes that fanned onto his cheekbones she longed to look into his eyes, which were one of his best features.

Mentally shaking herself, she turned away to pull her lip balm from her purse. "What am I doing?" she whispered to herself, turning back toward him to gently coat his chapped lips with it. "I need to get some rest too, so you have to recover soon, Will."

He didn't stir, having falling into a deeper sleep. She leaned back into the chair and wondered for the hundredth time why he'd come here for her help. It made no sense—they'd only known each other as fellow grad students, certainly not what you could call friends outside of their tutoring relationship. Though he had on occasion let her take him out for coffee a few times. He was a few years older than she was, not that unusual considering how many older grad students there were in existence. If she hadn't taken organic chemistry she probably never would've met him. Thankful for his help, she'd written him a note and enclosed a gift card for the local music store for him, since he'd refused to accept any payment from her, saying without tutoring he'd have been incredibly bored with the class. It was obvious the work was simply too easy for him. But nothing in their relationship could really explain why he'd come to her now, and under such circumstances.

"Why me, Will?" she whispered, watching him sleep. "Was it because you wanted to see the great Northwest, or maybe you regretted never asking me out… though British Columbia is awfully far to go for a date, isn't it?" she sighed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes with a smile.

_If only…_

_**James Westford glanced back over his shoulder, smiling at the way his wife sat before the tv, her eyes glued to the screen**_. Surprised to see her taken with the evening news, he reluctantly turned his attention back to the grill, poking at the kabobs as he listened distractedly to the headlines. In his mind the country was falling apart from the inside, a symptom of what was going on in the world. Things had changed radically in the past year especially, but that new scandal involving the FBI and Homeland Security was beyond understanding.

"Dear God!" Sarah cried, interrupting his thoughts. He tensed from the tone in her voice. "That's _Matthew_!"

He turned at the mention of that name, staring at her enraptured expression as the news anchor stated there would be more on the story at 11. He walked toward her as she stood and turned toward him, her face lighting up.

"Matthew was just on the evening news!" she croaked as he reached out to touch her shoulder. "There was a photo, and I swear it was _him_!" she added. "It was our son!"

"Now, don't go getting all excited," he warned, glancing toward the tv. "You know he'd never let anyone get a photo of him—"

"I know, but I also know my own son when I see him!" she insisted. "A mother never forgets a thing—"

"But they said his name was Will something or other—not Daniel Taft!"

"He was Daniel Taft over two years ago, James! I'm telling you that was our Matthew's face on the news!"

He shook his head in consternation. "But he doesn't work for Homeland Security anymore and besides he'd never have anything to do with that bombing—"

"We don't know that!" she insisted, gripping his shirt with both hands. "We've got to call the station and get a copy of that photo, Jim—"

"Now don't start running around crazy or we might jeopardize his safety," he warned. "Let's just wait for the evening news and hope he contacts us soon."

"But if he's really this Will Traveler person then he's in trouble," she worried. "They said there's a nationwide manhunt for him! We've got to do something—"

"All right, ok!" he said, starting to worry himself. "We'll check the internet for the New York news and see what they say at 11 but for now let's pray for him, then eat our dinner."

She nodded and they prayed. Once they were finished she glanced toward the phone. "I'll just be a second—I want to call Erin so she can watch at 11!"

He stood watching her as she ran to pick up the cordless phone, sliding onto the chair before the computer as she hit the reset button. He shook his head and turned back to the stove.

"I'm bringing you a plate!" he warned her, stopping at the sink and glancing out the window. Clouds were gathering against a darkening sky over the miles of wheat bending under the wind. A storm was headed their way, prompting a flash of memory to fill his thoughts.

He saw them all standing out in the rain after the threat of a tornado had passed, and heard Matt's laugh echo through his mind. He could almost see that wide smile of his, nearly splitting his face in half as he whopped and hollered in relief. They'd had some good times together working the fields, even during those late teenage years before he'd gone into the military. His heart yearned for his son as he prayed that it wasn't his face in the news. He inhabited a much more dangerous world now, but he knew his son. The good Lord was still his anchor, just as He'd been theirs all these years.

"Be his rearguard, Lord," he whispered. "Save and protect him, according to Your power and mercy."

"Erin—it's Mom," he heard his wife's voice announce. "Have you seen the news today?"

_**Freed stared at the screen, anger burning inside him at the sight of his former agent's face.**_ He glanced up at the guard standing by his side. "Get me the phone, now."

Straightening to high alert, he watched him nod curtly before crossing the room to pick up the cordless and carry it over to him. With a grimace of pain he pushed himself higher against the pillows and took it from him, punching the numbers and waiting impatiently for the answer. When the other end clicked he spoke into the silence.

"I thought you were going to take care of the problem," he accused, eyeing his guard until the man averted his gaze. "This _cannot_ be allowed to continue, do you understand Whatley? I don't care what you have to do—find him and take care of it, or you'll live to regret it!"

Punching the button he hung up and settled back, eyes on the cable news channel as he waited for another glimpse of Traveler's photo. Growing inpatient and deciding he'd recuperated long enough, he glanced at him again.

"Get me the on-call doctor to make arrangements for my discharge," he growled, setting the man into action again. "I've wasted away here long enough—time to get back to work."

"Yes, sir," he answered, slipping from the room.

Freed smiled as he took a deep cleansing breath. "Don't worry Will…no matter what it takes, we'll find you. Then we'll see what the term 'fall guy' really means."

_**Emerging from the black terror of his dreams Will woke up suddenly, pain searing his abdomen. **_He curled his arm around his left side, and looked around at the darkened room. His throat burned and felt parched, not allowing his voice to project beyond a pitiful sounding croak. Wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue he fought the panic trying to overwhelm him and struggled to keep his eyes open. He felt drugged and weak, but managed to lift his head despite the pain knifing his temple. A wave of dizziness swept over him, pushing his head back down as he swallowed and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Closing his eyes, he battled the hot pain lancing his entire left side, front and back. Then he heard the soft rustle of fabric before a hand touched his shoulder.

"Don't try to get up," a soft female voice soothed. "You don't want to pull a stitch."

He opened his lids and gazed up toward the hazy outline of her face, unable to see her clearly. Long dark waves of hair reached toward him as she leaned closer, her lemon-sweet scent calming him. He stared up at her, trying to focus in the dim light. Something poked his lips.

"Take a few sips," she ordered, "it's just water…go ahead."

He pulled on the straw and blessed relief filled his mouth, cooling it and trickling down throat. Grateful beyond words, he continued trying to focus on her features. "Annie?" he croaked.

Her hand touched the side of his cheek, cooling it immediately. "You've been delirious for three days," she sighed, "but it looks like we've finally gotten your fevers down."

He swallowed with some effort. "Where…"

"You're in Lynnmour, near Vancouver," she said gently, turning to set the glass down. "I guess you don't remember much, at this point."

He tried to remember anything beyond seeing her standing in the deserted library, but could not. "Three days?"

She laughed softly, resting a hand on his bare shoulder. "You're doing better than I imagined...welcome back to the real world Will."

The way she said his name brought a flood of memories to his mind, closing his eyes with relief. He saw her smiling eyes and bright smile as they sat together in the dining commons, cramming for finals. That voice of hers was memorable, soft and lower pitched than most women's, touched by a slight Canadian accent.

"I'm sorry …" he sighed, feeling exhausted and unable to keep his eyes open.

"I'm glad you came, Will…don't worry, my Uncle treated you. He's a vet," she said with a soft laugh. "You should feel honoured, having been the first human patient to be treated here."

It took a few seconds for that to register, but he saw the humour in the situation, smiling despite his pain. "Sorrry for all the trouble…"

"Just catch up on your rest, ok?" she said, gently patting his shoulder as he slid toward oblivion again. "Neither of us is going anywhere…" her words echoed through his mind.

_**Chambers stared at the queue forming outside his office, knowing his time was short. **_Jan Marlow turned and eyed him with her darkly accusing glare but he quickly slipped the papers into his shredder and heard the phone pick up on the other end.

"I'm about to be arrested but you know what to do," he spoke into the silence on the other end. "Joseph died before Marlow got anything out of him so you don't have to worry about that but I expect to be out on bail by morning."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Freed's voice stated calmly, sending a chill of fear throughout his being. "You must have the wrong number."

"What?" he hissed, looking up as the agents started toward his office. "Don't jerk me around at a time like this—we had a deal!"

The received clicked and a dial tone filled the ensuing silence. With a muttered curse he slammed the phone down and scrambled to stuff his keys into the secret compartment beneath his desk. The door opened and he stood up.

"Agent Marlow, what a surprise to see you out, on bail I presume?" he greeted her, ignoring the stern expressions on the men's faces who accompanied her.

"Agent Chambers, I'm afraid you have to come with us," the older man stated, staring at him accusingly.

He forced a smile and nodded. "Of course, but first I wish to call my lawyer."

_**Raquel Melendez hung up the phone, her hand trembling as she clutched her daughter's diary to her heart. **_Closing her eyes, she prayed and felt a tiny glimmer of hope that her call would somehow vindicate her daughter's actions. Agent Marlow's voice was the same one she'd heard on the news, so she knew she'd found the right number. Her message had been short and softly spoken, and now she worried that maybe it hadn't recorded properly. Just in case, she'd wait a day and if no return call was made she'd try again. She had to.

Glancing down at Maya's diary, she touched it reverently and glanced at the legal document which had been kept in her safe deposit box. Shaking her head, she got up and walked shakily toward the window, looking out over the ocean.

"If I hadn't found that key," she said with trembling lips, feeling another wave of grief for her only daughter. "But you made sure that I would find it, and your journal. So don't worry, sweetheart, Mama will see to it that the world knows what you suffered. And may God Almighty grant justice…amen."

_**The next time he saw her she was sleeping on her watch. **_In what looked like early morning light he studied her as she dozed in the chair at his bedside. Her head was turned away, the dark waves of her hair hiding the curve of her jaw and her long neck. His eyes traveled its length and continued down, touching the soft-looking shawl that covered one shoulder and breast to the place where her arm curled halfway around her waist. He was drawn to the profile of her lips, which looked soft and were slightly parted. Listening to the soft sound of her breathing, he fought the pain that burned in his side, admitting that it had dulled somewhat since the last time he was awake. The wound in his back throbbed less where the female FBI agent had shot him, the memory of that night sending a wave of panic over him. Pure adrenaline rushed into his veins as he fought the urge to get up and run.

_This is a safe haven,_ he told himself as he remembered researching it as thoroughly as time had allowed. He had to stay put until he healed and in the meantime convince her and whoever else of his innocence, praying that they might somehow help him until he was able to move on. Even as he planned his next move he knew he was assuming a lot, especially his hope that they'd somehow missed the news back in the States and had no idea what he'd been involved in.

He heard her stir slightly, curving her lips in sleep as she turned her head toward him. Then she tensed before trying to get more comfortable, unaware that she'd fallen asleep in a chair. As she shifted slightly as if in an effort to be more comfortable he knew she was waking up and closed his eyes, pretending to be sleep. Until he knew what to say and how to explain his presence, he had no other choice. But she shifted again and the chair creaked softly. He felt a hand gently touch his hair.

"Will…are you awake?" she whispered, waiting.

Suddenly overcome with the desire to look at her, he stiffened and slowly stirred himself, gently clearing his throat. Pretending to drag his eyes open he shifted his legs and turned his head more toward her. Opening his eyes, he stared at her as sleepily as he could manage, finding her answering smile more of a reward than he'd expected.

She leaned closer. "How are you feeling?" she said softly, looking at him as if he was the best thing she'd seen in years.

"Annie?" he croaked, his voice thick from thirst and weakness. He tried to shift higher but she planted a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"Oh no you don't," she warned, "you're not going anywhere."

"What happened?" he said more to make conversation than to find out what he remembered. "How did I get here?"

"How could you forget breaking into the library and scaring me half to death?" she marveled, leaning back and studying him more critically. "All that and being hurt so badly—it's a miracle you made it to my car without falling face down onto the lot."

He moistened his lips and she reached over to hand him the cup. Pulling at the straw with a grateful expression, he drank as she continued.

"I drove you here but only because you insisted 'no doctor, no hospital'" she sighed with a twinkle in her eyes. "You didn't say no to an animal hospital, so consider yourself registered in large pet critical care."

He swallowed and shot her a wan smile. "Very funny, but thanks."

"You're not getting off that easy," she warned. "My uncle and I both want an explanation."

"Alright," he sighed, leaning back as she took the cup. "I really had no other place to go."

"Who shot you?"

He narrowed his gaze. "You see the news?"

She held his gaze. "Frankly we've been too busy way up here in the boonies… why don't you tell me about it?"

"Help me up," he croaked, wincing in pain as he dropped back against the pillows. "Never mind…"

"I warned you," she stated, leaning closer and lifting the blanket covering his side.

He glanced down at the thick bandage secured tightly around his waist, then up into her worried expression. "Sorry," he breathed, realizing how rough his condition really was.

"It's ok—there's no more blood than before," she reassured him as he touched the dressing with tentative fingers. "You lost a lot of blood—good think you've got a common blood type."

He looked up. "You infused me?"

"Your counts were low so we had to...it was only one pint."

"A pint?" he marveled, gazing heavenward in disbelief. "I didn't think it was that bad."

"My uncle thinks you've been shot at least three other times, Will."

He met her gaze, unable to deny it. "Your uncle?"

She smiled sarcastically. "When were you actually shot this time, and by whom?"

He held her gaze, knowing it was only a matter of time before she found out. "Six days ago, by an FBI agent in New York."

Her brows rose in mock surprise. "Not the run of the mill grad student, are we?"

"I hate to disappoint you," he answered, leaning his head back and clutching his throbbing side. "Though I wish I was."

"Was what?"

He closed his eyes. "Never mind…that was another life."

In the ensuing silence he knew she wasn't going to give up. "I think you owe me a better explanation than that WIll."

He opened his eyes and met her troubled gaze. "I'm sorry, Annie…"

"So you're a fugitive, which explains why you've fled the country."

He sighed heavily. "Since you'll probably hear the wrong report from the news I'll tell you what I can."

"What do you mean, what you _can?_" she complained, throwing up her hands. "I don't like secrets Will, and neither does my uncle."

"It's a long and complicated story," he warned, pursing his lips.

"I've got all the time in the world, now that I've called in sick."

He looked up. "Alright—for the last ten years I've been in deep covert ops, serving—or at least I thought I was serving my country in the line of duty."

She stared at him, her face pale. "You work for the CIA?" she whispered.

"Homeland Security," he corrected, "which I just found out was another lie."

"Then you must be military…"

He nodded. "Afraid so."

"But why would the FBI be shooting at you if you work for the same government?"

"I thought I was but turns out I've been had," he admitted. "It seems the big boss was managing his own rogue crew all this time without any of us knowing it, and the only proof I have just blew up in my face. With him gone I have no alibi or way to clear myself, at least not yet. So I bolted."

"Are you referring to Chief Freed blowing himself up?" a nasal voice interrupted, capturing both their attention.

Will glanced at the door where there stood a tall man who looked about his father's age. Annie switched her attention to him. "Uncle Howie this is Will Traveler."

He eyed the man with a hesitation. "Sir…"

"Sounds like a fake name if I've ever heard one," he grunted, coming to the foot of the bed. "I've been checking out the American news and you're all over it Mr. _Will Traveler_. First thing I want to know is why you came to my niece for help, the second being your real name."

"I'm sorry, sir, and I truly appreciate all your help—"

"I want the condensed version," he insisted, eyeing Annie. "Then we'll decide what to do with you."

"Uncle Howie, please!" she protested as she got up and faced him. "He's my friend and he's injured! He's not going anywhere until he's recovered."

"Don't forget who treated him," he countered, "or the fact that he's a wanted fugitive!"

"Please sir, I can explain," Will pleaded, looking from him to Annie. "I'm sorry to have involved you both but I had no choice. I've worked in black ops for ten years for what I now realize is a bogus operation, and the FBI is involved in the conspiracy too. So I had to run in order to buy time and clear myself."

"You're military? Never mind—it sounds like you're in way too deep to clear yourself," Howie stated. "If it really is a cover up then you'll be their fall guy."

"Which is why I had no choice but to hide— at least for now."

Howie sighed heavily. "Well if my niece says you're her friend then I trust her judgment…but I don't like it."

"Please, Uncle Howie—can he stay?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm. "Maybe we can help him."

He eyed Will critically. "Is she really the reason you came here?"

Will nodded. "She is…our friendship has nothing to do with all this."

"And you had no idea that I was a combat medic in Iraq?"

Will looked at Annie, unable to deny it. "I was aware of that fact, yes."

"I don't care what his reasons were!" Annie insisted, "he's here and he's my friend—that's good enough reason for me to help him."

"He the one who tutored you?" he asked skeptically as Will leaned his head back tiredly.

"Yes and he wouldn't let me pay him anything for it," she answered. "I only passed my exam because of him."

"You had it down, without my help," Will insisted, watching her uncle check his IV.

"We can start giving you oral painkillers," he stated, nodding to Annie. "If you want him here then that's ok with me but he'll have to stay quiet and keep a low profile."

She nodded. "Thanks…we'll try."

He nodded and turned to leave the room, then she eyed him accusingly. "I _thought_ we were friends, Will…guess that shows how gullible I am—"

"Don't Annie—"

"Then tell me something that's really true—"

"My real name is Matthew Westford," he said quietly, feeling strange as he said his own name. She held his gaze as he nodded to confirm it. "And I haven't told that to anyone in over ten years."

She lifted her chin a bit. "No one?"

"Look this has been my job, ok?" he said in frustration. "I was paid to do what I did, travel wherever they sent me and ordered not to ask questions—"

"Just follow orders, huh?" she challenged, crossing her arms. "Sounds pretty simple if you ask me."

"It was until I was expected to treat civilians as the enemy," he stated firmly. "That I couldn't bring myself to obey…so court-martial me."

She took a step closer, leaning over him. "If you're lying to me this is _over!_"

"I'm not lying!" he croaked, frustrated that his voice deserted him. "For once I don't _have _to lie, can't you see that?"

Her uncle came back into the room to toss him a bottle of pills. Eyeing him with newfound respect he nodded. "I'm sorry I was a bit curt with you before…as a veteran I can appreciate your struggle," he admitted, eyeing his niece. "Go easy on him, honey. The fact that he's in a lot of pain right now doesn't help matters, so see that he takes those pills. I've got to tend to my boarders and then I'm going in town to do some shopping. Give me a list of what you'll need."

She reached out and squeezed his forearm before eyeing Will. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

They watched her leave before Howie slowly sat down in her chair, nodding in the direction she'd left. "She likes you, I hope you realize."

Not knowing how to answer that, Will just waited for whatever was coming.

"I don't want her hurt, understand? She's been through a lot, and it's just the two of us besides her mother. Now before she gets back I want to hear your plan before I decide if I'm going to help you."

Will held his gaze, then nodded. "Alright…but this stays between the two of us, ok?"

Howie nodded. "Agreed."

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	3. Ch 3 The Hunted

_**Chapter 3 The Hunter**_

_**Will watched her covertly as she moved about in the kitchen, **_deciding he could trust her after all. He'd been in his right mind for a few days now and sensed that she would keep the few secrets he'd shared with her, despite his unwillingness to. Uncle Howie was another story, being behind him all the way but that was because they'd both been in the military. It was one of the major benefits, having the support of other veterans, especially if you'd seen combat like he had.

Pulling the zippered sweatshirt closer, he leaned in the opposite direction of his wounded side just to keep from stiffening up too much. He short walks around their yard helped considerably, even though they'd been painful at first and he'd had to force himself to stand straight. He was feeling stronger each day and told himself he really needed to move on, but as his eyes followed her movements he found himself more and more distracted by her. Which he knew he couldn't afford to do.

At that moment she looked up, finding his eyes on her. Her hair was in ponytails that were slipping loose and she blew her long bangs out of her eyes, her mitted hands holding the pan before her. Then she tilted her head to one side and made a face.

"You sure you don't want to go outside? It's really a beautiful day," she said, carefully setting the pan down on the island counter separating them.

He shook his head, finding it difficult to look away. There was something about her that had always drawn him, and it went beyond her dark hair and eyes and flawless skin. She had a shy streak that clashed with her exuberance, making her personality a study in contrasts that fascinated him. She was petite but had an athletic build and seemingly boundless energy, all of which made her a pleasure to be around. Maybe it was her optimism and faith that drew him, reminding him of dangerous things like home and family. He could easily picture her with an army of kids, happily commandeering them and running the show, but with a lighthearted and joyful spirit that made him feel homesick and lonely.

"Will?" she breathed, her expression drifting toward concern. "You feeling alright?"

He shook himself inwardly and forced a smile. "Yeah, sure. Why?"

She shrugged, pulling off the cooking mitts. "You look kind of pale all of a sudden."

"I'm fine," he breathed, forcing himself up from the chair and glancing toward the window. "It is a nice day—want to go somewhere?"

"Me?" she blinked, smiling innocently as she eyed the mess of bowls and pans spread before her. "I don't think so, but go ahead—you can take the car if you want to go for a drive."

He came closer, ignoring the mess. "I was asking _you_. I've been alone enough years, as it is."

She studied his face a moment, then pulled off her apron and tossed it over the mess. "Sure, why not?"

"I'll even help clean up when we get back."

"Really? Now there's an offer I can't refuse," she teased. "Where to, Captain?"

He hesitated at the title, which was right on the mark. "Why don't you show me that trail your uncle mentioned?" he said to distract himself from thoughts of the past.

"The one that leads to the fjord? It's over seven miles, Will—"

"We don't have to do the whole route," he shrugged, nodding toward the door. "I'll pace myself, if it makes you feel any better."

"Ok…let's go," she replied with a smile, going to the door and pulling down her sweater. Leaning past her, he opened it while she pulled on the thickly knit cardigan. He couldn't help admiring the dark rich brown color of her oversized sweater and how it complemented her coloring.

"It smells wonderful, by the way," he sighed, waiting while she locked the door behind them. "I think I'm actually getting my appetite back."

"That's understandable," she chuckled, "after eating soup all week. I cook nonfat and light whenever I can, so it shouldn't challenge your digestive system if you limit your portions."

"I'll keep that in mind," he stated, falling in step with her. Looking up at the deep blue sky and white clouds drifting overhead, he breathed in the fresh air and felt his strength returning.

"Over there is where we used to keep the goats," she informed him with a sly upwards glance. "My mom still misses them but no one else does."

"Am I going to get to meet her?" he asked, remembering his childhood growing up on the farm. It only left him with an empty feeling inside.

"Depends if you stick around," she shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Personally I'd like to keep bees but it's a lot of work that I don't have time for right now. Maybe someday…"

They strolled down the incline toward the dirt road which led into their property, and he could easily picture her at home with his family. Checking himself, he realized he was picturing her as someone he might actually want to bring home. _Now where did that idea come from?_

"You know, you could always teach chemistry once you stop being a hit man," she said tongue-in-cheek, making him laugh at her expression.

"Yeah right," he sighed. "I'll be lucky not to rot in military prison for the next 30 years."

"Don't say that," she warned, her voice low as she eyed him. Her expression was serious, and to his astonishment he felt her hand brush his. Catching it, he squeezed her fingers and gazed ahead.

"You make me actually consider having some sort of future," he admitted, shaking his head. "Optimist that you are."

"But that's why you like me," she stated prettily, lifting his hand and holding it between both hers as she turned to face him, walking backwards. "Isn't it?"

He smiled and had to nod in agreement. "I suppose that's it."

She frowned. "What do you mean you suppose? You don't even know?"

He shrugged. "Guess I never really analyzed it. We just hit it off as friends, as far as I could determine."

She batted her eyelashes at him. "Actually _I_ went after you and caught you in my web, handsome grad student that you were—not to mention brilliant at my worst subject."

He looked heavenward in exasperation. "Had I known your clearly calculated plans maybe I would've run in the opposite direction."

"Well I'm glad you didn't," she sighed, turning to walk at his side again, "or else we wouldn't be having this nice walk together, now would we?"

"Yeah, complete with a bullet hole through my side," he breathed, eyeing her warm gaze with sudden suspicion. "Did you really plot to ensnare me for study purposes alone?"

"No, of course not!" she said in mock outrage. "As I said, you're handsome and brilliant—good husband material."

He sobered at her words, which came way too close to his own thoughts lately. "You were looking for a husband? I thought you were pursuing your career fast and furiously."

She smiled mysteriously before gazing off into the distance. "That, my friend is highly confidential information—look, there's the trailhead."

_**Annie studied him as he stood staring out across the water, **_really staring out across time and space, as far as she could tell. His eyes had a vacant longing in them which she'd seen before. And the time he spent with his eyes fixed on some distant point confirmed it. He was here next to her, but not really here with her at all. And that she found the most frustrating.

"God, this feels good," he sighed, closing his eyes as he leaned an arm upon the railing. The sun beat weakly on his pale skin, emphasizing the fact that he was still recovering. How he'd made it up this far she had no idea, except to guess that his body was used to whatever punishing routine had become normal for him.

"The air is amazing …" he breathed, exhaling and filling his lungs again. He still kept his arm at his side, and she doubted he realized he was doing it. They'd only just removed the drain from his wound three days ago because he'd complained of having cabin fever even then. He'd eased back into standing and walking, having progressed rapidly back to his full strength. Though she hid it from him she worried constantly about him, especially in these surroundings. How could he be sure no one had traced him to her? And if he was found, what dangers awaited him? She suspected he was a threat to his country's security and would therefore need to be silenced. His brooding silences and mood shifts to lighthearted joking bothered her, for she sensed his agitation as well. For the past 15 minutes he'd said nothing, just let the anxiety drain from him as they stood looking out over the lake. But their lingering even this long in one place made her worries mount. So she nudged her shoulder against his arm and leaned closer.

"You sure this is ok?" she said just above a whisper, studying his profile. After a moment he turned his head and looked into her eyes, making her breath catch. The dark blue of his irises was stunning, as was his lazy smile.

"It's more than ok," he sighed, "why? You getting cold, or want to go back?"

She shook her head, tearing her gaze from his face as she concentrated on the scenery opening before them. "I just worry about you, and hope we're not being watched," she admitted softly, squinting to study the small boat far below them on the water.

"Hey, it's ok," he reassured her, half turning to face her. "I'm sorry if I made you paranoid with my stories—"

"It's not that," she insisted, tugging on his sleeve as he turned with some reluctance. "We should start back—I think a squall is coming in."

"Really? But it's such a clear day, even with the fog," he said, walking slowly back down the trail.

"I can sense these things," she breathed out, trying to calm her suddenly jagged nerves. It did feel like they were being watched, though the prospect of that happening was slim.

"Well, I appreciate you bringing me up here," he sighed. "I'm not used to the coast, or being so close to both mountains and water at the same time."

"Really? Where did you grow up, Will?" she couldn't help asking, noting the flash of regret in his eyes before he glanced away.

"It doesn't matter," he sighed. "I haven't been home in a long time."

"Well it matters to me."

He looked down at her, slowing his steps. "Why?"

She studied the glint of loneliness in his eyes and forced a smile. "Because I care about you—what? Isn't that sort of question allowed?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as they started again. "No, not really."

"So your name and your hometown are confidential," she mused. "You know what? I don't really care."

"No," he laughed. "You wouldn't care."

"Sorry, that's just me."

"I know, and I admire you for it."

She looked up into his serious expression, her smile fading. "You're not joking, are you?"

He didn't answer, but she sensed he had something on his mind and was struggling with whether he should mention it or not.

"Will, I mean Matthew—"

"Call me Will," he said quietly touching her elbow as they started walking again. "It's better that you do."

"But I thought—"

"I shouldn't have told you, or anyone," he stated, looking torn. "It's just that I wanted—never mind."

"You wanted to be yourself," she supplied, looking up into his hooded gaze. "You wanted to let your guard down, just for once—"

"I can't afford to do that!" he hissed, eyeing their surroundings before his gaze gentled on her face. "Especially not now."

"But your world as you knew it no longer exists!" she pleaded softly, gripping his arm. "Your cover's blown, so you might as well be yourself for once!"

"You don't understand," he insisted, easing her hand from his arm. "I'll be leaving soon, so it won't matter anyway. The less you know about me the better—"

"How can you say that?" she choked. "Don't show me a hint of the real you and then pull back, going into some sort of protection mode again! It's not fair!"

"I'm sorry!" he groaned, his eyes narrowing on some distant point ahead as his steps slowed again.

"You'd better be sorry, because if we're going to ever—"

He clamped a hand over her mouth and wrapped his arms around her from behind, grunting softly as she bumped his side. She fastened her hands on his forearms as he dragging her into the cover of a huge pine tree, his eyes on the clearing ahead. Her breath caught as she saw something move at the far edge of the clearing. Will's hand curled around her waist as his lips touched her ear.

"Get ready to run," he whispered, "and don't look back, no matter what."

She clung to him as he loosened his grip and nodded toward the dark woods. "Go!" he whispered.

Terrified at the look in his eyes, she bolted from his arms, rushing into the trees as he followed close behind. Careful to keep from tripping over the rocks and roots of the forest floor she leapt from soft earth to flat rock sections, nearly crying out when something splintered the bark of a tree to her right, sending wood splinters flying around them. Will slowed and turned, a gun held in his hand. She gaped at the sight, wondering where he got it as he shot back, the sound deafening and making her ears ring. Trying to run away from the threat of more shots she felt raw panic claw up her throat and fought the urge to scream for help.

More shots pinged the trees and ricocheted off the rocks as they ran, then Will ducked behind a tree and braced his arms, shooting in rapid succession as she kept running. She prayed fiercely for their escape, and for Will's safety as she scrambled down a ledge and stopped abruptly to catch her breath. Will shot twice more before all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart. Gripping the roots lining the small cliff she hid behind, she peered out into the murky dimness of the woods, amazed to see Will dart from tree to tree before the pinging shots resumed. She ducked back down, covering her ears as he fired back. Then she remembered his orders to keep moving and started running until she couldn't run anymore.

The sky was darkening and within minutes the skies opened and a deluge of pelting rain hit her. She slowed her pace and looked frantically for cover, spotting a huge tree trunk that stood over a small opening of rocks. Heading for the hiding place, she eased back into its darkness and pursed her trembling lips, praying for Will to come and find her. She waited for what must have been a half hour, hearing his shots ring out again and again, though she could see nothing as she peered into the distance. She waited with panting breath, shivering in the dampness of her clothing until she forced herself to get a grip.

_He's going to be alright, _she told herself over and over. _He survived the other shooting, and for some reason we're together. Please God, don't let it end this way…_

Suddenly time seemed to stand still, and she was overcome by an eerie sensation of being watched. She stared into the dark afternoon light, covering her mouth as something moved across the gully filling with water rushing off the mountain. Holding her breath, she watched as a figure slipped from one tree to the next, then turned and seemed to look right at her. Cringing back against the dirt wall of her hiding place, she jumped when the wood above her head splintered from an awful hiss of what must be the gun's silencer. The figure stepped out from the shadows, quite a distance away from her. She was aware of his arms lifting and the gun pointing in her direction. Rocks scattered at her side as someone stepped in front of her and fired a deafening shot.

_Will!_

Too shocked to move, she watched as the fog draping the forest seemed to descend, a white wisp of smoke rising to mingle with it over his head. He didn't move for the longest time as she stared at his back, noting his wide-legged stance before he slowly lowered his arms. He shifted his boots closer together as she gazed past him in mute horror, studying the small dark mound lying a few hundred feet away. Will started off toward him, never turning to acknowledge her presence. She hugged her knees and watched as he approached the man. After a moment he bent to one knee, cradling his side with one arm as he reached down to check the man's neck. When he looked up she held his gaze across the distance separating them. With a grimace of pain he rose and started toward her, stalking across the strewn rocks and gurgling stream as the rain continued to fall, though much lighter in intensity. She forced herself to move and crawled out to meet him. He came up and opened his arms as she threw hers around his shoulders. They held each other tightly and she closed her eyes in thanksgiving, aware of the solid wall of his chest as she shuddered from fear and chills from their wet clothing. Burying her face against his neck she choked back sobs of fear and relief as he held onto her, his cheek against her hair.

"It's alright," he murmured into her ear, "you're safe."

She shivered with pleasure at the touch of his breath while he gently guided her backward under the cover of the trees. Her back touched the trunk of the tree as she tipped her head back to look up at him.

His eyes blazed darkly with fierce defiance, burning her freezing skin with their heat. Held in the beauty of their power, she felt protected and safe. Relaxing her claw-like grip on his shoulders, she clutched him like a lifeline as his gaze lowered to her lips. She tried slowing her breathing but he stared at her mouth. His hands tightened at her back as she became more aware of him, noting the subtle changes in him as his body pressed her into the trunk of the tree. Then, as if waking from whatever spell that held them bound, he loosened his grip on her, gently easing away.

"Will, don't," she whispered in protest, holding his gaze.

After a moment his eyes burned with a hunger she'd never seen anywhere before. It fascinated her and hypnotized her as she slid her hands slowly down his chest. They sparked with desire at her touch, further captivating her. She felt his gaze burning deep within the core of her being, consuming her and igniting a fierce love for him that took her breath away. It was so sudden that it surprised her, making his gaze narrow as a wall went up between them. She sensed him withdrawing and without a thought rose to her toes to press her lips against his.

His eyes closed with tortured relief and she felt his hands grip her waist again. After what seemed like an eternity he moaned softly and tilted his head, opening his lips over hers. The hot hungry possession of his kiss melted her insides as she gripped him like a lifeline, kissing him back. She sensed the struggle of the Will that was a strict disciplinarian fighting against a lonely desperate Matthew she was desperate to know.

They wrestled back and forth with exploring kisses and touches until his hips nudged her back against the tree trunk, holding her there as she tried to wrap herself around him. With a groan of frustration he broke the kiss, dropping his head before her as she shoved her hands into his hair and held on. His breath panted as she felt her body craving intimacy with him. But to her dismay he pulled back, touching his forehead to hers as she gripped his shoulders in protest.

"Please…" she panted, wanting him more than anything she'd ever wanted her whole life.

He closed his eyes. "Dear God…" he sighed, his breath making tiny white puffs in the cold air as he gripped her arms, gently forcing them down to her side.

"You saved my life," she said in fear and wonder, gaping at him in astonishment. "He had me in his sights before you stepped in front of me."

He nodded, looking into her eyes with a much more reserved expression. "I know—are you alright?"

She nodded, stepping back and hugging herself as he studied her with a professional demeanor. She struggled with the abrupt change in him, reassuring herself that she hadn't imagined the other man who'd kissed her with a passion she'd never experienced before. But she wanted him back.

"Are you?" she managed to ask before a fit of shivering shook her.

He nodded, eyeing the sky as he touched her arm. "Take cover back under the tree," he ordered gently, turning to look at the fallen sniper. "Wait here…I'll try to hurry."

"What are you doing?" she demanded, eyeing the man with renewed fear.

He pursed his lips. "I need to bury him."

"But –he tried to kiss us! We need to call the authorities—"

"I won't be long."

"Will!" she croaked as he turned and went back, calling after him. "You can't strain yourself, not this soon—"

"I'm fine," he called back, continuing on.

"No!" she cried, rushing after him and coming up to his side. "We need to go, it's getting dark—"

"Not until I secure the body," he warned, glancing at her as they came closer. "If I don't the animals will tear him to pieces, and I need him as proof."

Realization dawned on her as he circled around the other side of the man, staring down at him. Then he bent to pick up two heavy rocks.

"I can't have you opening your wounds and bleeding out here in the middle of nowhere!" she cried, staring at him in disbelief.

"I have to do this, Annie," he said grimly, and she suddenly saw the glint of regret in his eyes.

"You're burying him with rocks?" she stated limply.

He pushed the two he'd laid at the man's side and positioned more along his length. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

Determined to see that he didn't hurt himself she rushed to help, piling as many rocks as she could around and over the huge man until Will seemed was satisfied. He lifted his arm to wipe the sweat off his face while she brushed her hands together, looking up to meet his gaze. Then he held out his hand.

"Let's go," he said hoarsely, and she went to his side and took his hand. He squeezed it as they turned to head back toward the trail in the near twilight dimness.

"I have a flashlight in my pack," she said in a small voice, earning a slight smile from him as they hurried. "And I remember where I dropped it."

He nodded. "Good girl."

They headed back, walking as quickly and nimbly as they could in the dim light. When he offered no explanation she allowed herself one question.

"Did you know him?"

He pursed his lips, then nodded once. "His name is Whatley…he works for Freed, my boss."

She was stunned. "Your boss sent a co-worker to _kill you?_"

"It appears that way."

"So, with him gone, you're safe?" she dared ask, despite his grim expression.

His eyes gazed into the distance before them. "There'll be others," he said in a chillingly calm voice.

She shivered, wanting to feel his hand around hers but sensing it wasn't the right time. They eventually found her backpack and took out the flashlight, finding the trail again and heading quickly down. She knew they had about 20 minutes to hike until they reached her car, and wondered what he would do about the man who lay buried beneath the rocks high above.

"I want us to talk about what happened back there," he stated quietly, avoiding her gaze, "but not now."

She looked up at his profile, and when he turned his head she longed to see his eyes clearly. "You mean about Whatley."

"No," he breathed, turning away. "I mean about us."

Something in his tone made her accept his decision despite the questions filling her mind. She thrilled inwardly at his kiss, knowing everything between them had changed. It was obvious that their sudden hunger for each other was prompted by the thrill of surviving the attack, but it had to be more than that. She'd caught him staring at her over the last few days, sensing his attraction as her own grew. But she had to be patient, half dreading and half thrilling what he might say. One thing was clear in her own mind—she loved him and wouldn't take no for an answer.

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt_


	4. Ch 4 The Agencies

_**Chapter 4 The Agencies**_

_**Jay faced the committee chairman with as calm an expression as he could manage. **_For days they'd grilled him around the clock, sending in different interrogators while only letting him sleep a few hours at a time before resuming another round of questioning. His surrender to the FBI had only been the start, for after they'd shouted at him and gone over the same questions too many times to count he'd been handed to the CIA and now faced a Congressional sub-committee. But at least he was finally out of jail for the time being. Glancing around at the two dozen dignitaries surrounding him he sighed inwardly, his only wish to have a semi-normal life again. Yet it seemed it would be a very long time before that came about, if ever.

"Mr. Burchell, we've heard your detailed accounts of the entirely of your acquaintance with the accused, yet something still seems amiss."

He waited, praying for an objection from the floor, but none came. The man cleared his throat. "Why did you and Tyler Fog run? Didn't you realize that in doing so you became accessories to Mr. Traveler's crimes?"

"Sir, as I explained before it was our conviction that Mr. Traveler was as much innocent to the recent turn of events as we were," he stated soberly, eyeing each member of the committee which sat facing him. "We were clearly being framed for something we had no part of."

"I find that highly doubtful, given your former testimony concerning Mr. Traveler," the congresswoman objected, shaking her head. "Enlighten me, if you would, as to why you've had this sudden change in thinking toward Mr. Traveler."

He cleared his throat. "Will was trying to expose the cover-up, as I've already stated. When it became obvious to us that all three of us had hits placed on us, the will to survive just kicked in, as it is now. I found myself in the same position as his, understanding the complexity of the situation."

"Ah, and why do you think Mr. Fog has remained at large as well? He wasn't as sympathetic as you?"

Jay looked down in frustration. "Answer the question, Mr. Burchell," the congresswoman ordered.

"I cannot speak for Tyler," he replied, looking up. "You have Agent Marlow's testimonies and you have mine. There was no reason for any of us to agree, unless it represented the truth."

"That's your interpretation, but given Mr. Fog's and Mr. Traveler's absence the truth remains quite unclear," the chairman said in a bored tone, glancing at his watch. "We'll recess until tomorrow morning at 8:00 sharp. You're dismissed."

Jay got to his feet with a sigh of relief, nodding to the MP who came to his side and took his arm to escort him from the room. He turned and scanned the crowded hall, narrowing his gaze at the woman seated in the back row. Trying not to stare or break stride, he studied her until he was directed through the doors and out into the back corridor. There was no mistaking it—Kim had come but in disguise. Just the thought of her risking that made his heart beat with hope. Maybe they weren't through after all.

_**Agent Jan Marlow paused, looking into the grieving mother's eyes with compassion. **_"I appreciate your sharing your daughter's story, Mrs. Melendez," she said carefully. "I truly do…but are you sure you want to do this?"

Raquel nodded, reassured by the understanding she read in the woman's expression. "I am now…for the longest time I was torn between protecting her and exposing the truth," she admitted. "But now I know what I must do, and that Maya would have wanted it this way."

Marlowe nodded, glancing down at the open page of Maya's journal. It also contained a great deal of concrete evidence as well, lifting her hopes much higher than where they'd been. "This will prove very valuable to the case…so I think you're doing the right thing."

She nodded. "I only hope that somehow this will help exonerate Mr. Traveler. My daughter was very close with him, closer than anyone else in her life. She was going to go away with him, but it was not to be…"

Marlow touched her arm and nodded. "There's something I'd like to show you," she decided, reaching for the file tucked in the back of her briefcase. The opened it upon the desk, watching her reaction carefully as she spread the photos out. One of them was a very flattering portrait of Maya.

"Dear God," she choked, covering her mouth with one hand as she stared at it. "She was only 28, you know."

Marlow nodded, pulling out the others. "These are photographs of the yacht Mr. Traveler purchased and signed over to your daughter," she said gently, pointing out the name Maya painted in dark brown. She didn't have the heart to show her the ones of its ruin after the explosion. "I'm told it was well stocked with provisions to last for some time."

"Maya told me that she wanted to sail away with him," she sighed, waving a hand. "She said he'd told her that if anything happened to him she must go without him. I think it was his way of protecting her."

"I think so," Marlow sighed, shaking her head. "It was clear that he feared for her safety." She didn't way what she felt, that if he really loved her he would have forced her to leave much earlier. But maybe he was confident that their relationship remained a secret.

Raquel slowly got to her feet. "I really must go," she sighed, reaching out her hand. "But thank you for seeing me. I know you're very busy—"

"No, thank _you_," Marlow disagreed, walking with her to the door. "I'll let you know the outcome as soon as I can."

"Have they found him?" she worried, whispering as her eyes darted around the building.

"No," Marlow breathed, doubting they ever would. "Not yet."

"Good," Raquel nodded, turning to leave. "I'll look forward to that call."

Marlow watched her walk to the elevator, and when the doors closed behind her she made her way back to her desk. Gathering everything together, she stuffed it into her briefcase and picked it up. Striding toward the door, she knew she had to copy and secure the evidence before it had a chance to disappear.

_**Will eyed his surroundings with narrowed gaze as he held on. **_Turning his head to scan the crowded square, he heard the phone go to voice mail and cleared his throat. Gripping the receiver with the edge of his sleeve he focused on Annie's profile, watching her while she stood waiting for him. The memory of her kisses still stirred him deeply, and he knew he had to make a decision soon, before it was too late.

"Listen Max, I need a favor," he began, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the alert for any sign of trouble. "There's a mess than needs to be cleaned up right away," he sighed, stating the coordinates pinpointing where Whatley's body lay covered with stones up in the mountains. "I'll check in with you at 07:00 to confirm."

Careful to wipe the key pad clean he hung up and stepped away from the pay phone, turning to make his way back through the crowd to her. Despite the overcast day the downtown was filled with people enjoying the live music, art fair and farmer's market. As he approached her he noted the stiff set of her shoulders and came to her side, hands jammed into his coat pockets. She turned her head and looked up at him, her gaze cautious and more reserved than he would have liked.

"Let's take a walk," he said quietly, starting off when she turned to leave. With a shudder she pulled her heavy sweater close, hugging herself.

"Where to?" she smiled, her tone and smile forced.

He looked up at the distant ridge with a sigh. "Anyplace where we can talk."

"Oh," she breathed, sounding like she dreaded the prospect. "Then it's the café."

He nodded. "That's fine."

They strolled along the crowded sidewalk for a few minutes before she let out a frustrated sigh. "You know, you never even met my mom."

He pursed his lips, and when she looked up he met her gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" she asked softly, looking away as they paused at the light, watching the traffic pass slowly by.

He eyed her tight lips with some apprehension. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it…I'd like to meet her very much."

"Well it would certainly make life easier for _me_ if she knew I had _you_ as a friend."

He had to smile at her obvious hint. "You mean _male _friend."

She shifted closer without looking up. "No, not necessarily…I have guy friends."

He bent his head toward her hair. "I think the real issue here is _suitor,_ if I'm not mistaken?"

Turning and lifting her head, her face was suddenly very close to his. Her gaze lowered to his lips as he pulled his hand from his pocket and touched her back. She looked away as he straightened and they resumed crossing the street. But he didn't miss the hint of hunger in her expression, nor could he deny feeling a jolt of attraction leap between them. The memory of her kisses still tempted him more than he cared to admit.

"Maybe you don't have to meet her to understand her," she said, shaking her head. "You'd think I was 45 years old the way she nags me about finding someone and settling down."

He scanned their surroundings, spotting a café just ahead. "Sounds like any normal mom to me."

"I'm sure your mom says the same—" she began, halting mid sentence to glance up at him. "I'm sorry…"

"No need to be," he sighed, again weighing the ramifications of what he was about to do. But he sensed it was the right thing, for both of them.

They entered the café and ordered, standing close in the take out line. He studied the other patrons, hoping to have found a more private place but deciding this was safer. They'd just have to play it cool and discuss things as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible. After he paid for their lattes they headed toward a back corner, grateful for the muted jazz playing in the background and the dark tables that stood thankfully vacant. Sliding onto the padded seat, he sat opposite her. Cupping his coffee he watched her settle herself and lifted the cup to his lips, noting the graceful toss of her hair over one shoulder and the hand that reached up to unbutton her sweater. Beneath it she wore a cream-colored lacy blouse he wished he could see. Quickly shifting his gaze up as she lifted the lid off her cup and took a sip, he couldn't help notice the lush dark fan of her eyelashes resting upon her cheeks. She looked up, catching him staring at her.

Caught in her warm dark gaze he lowered his cup and slowly leaned back, holding it until she broke contact, leaned back and took another sip. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

He eyed the lobby of the café before returning his attention to her. "I think you know."

She frowned. "You're leaving, of course."

"I have to…you know that."

She nodded nervously, forcing a smile. "So, did you get that little problem taken care of?"

Not bothering to deny his urgent manner in making that call, he looked away. "I'll know for sure by tomorrow morning."

"Then you're not concerned about it?"

He looked back into her eyes. "'Fraid not."

She nodded, trying to act as if they were having a normal conversation. "So where will you go?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he stated, taking another swallow of coffee.

She held his gaze, waiting. When he didn't elaborate, she shrugged. "So talk."

He leaned forward, sliding his hand toward her and opening it. As he waited for her to take it, he watched her gaze falter a bit before she reached up, placing her hand in his. He squeezed it and looked into her eyes, finally feeling sure of the choice he'd made.

"I want you to come with me," he said quietly, stroking her knuckles with his thumb, "as my wife."

Her eyes went wide as she paled considerably. "What?" she whispered.

"You heard me," he said gently. "I want us to get married."

"Will, I mean Matt—"

"I'm sorry I have to ask you like this," he interrupted, "and under these circumstances."

She pulled her hand from his. "You want to get _married_?" she croaked. "To me? But why—"

"Hear me out, ok?" he breathed, running a hand over his scraggly beard. "Look I know I've got a hell of a nerve asking you, and that my timing is all off."

She spread her hands onto the table, glancing down. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Look I know things are impossible right now, but I do have a plan," he continued, studying her stony expression before she looked up. Something lit in her eyes but she waited.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hand back. "I want to meet your mom, call your uncle and have us all meet at the courthouse. We can go before a magistrate, get a license, then all go out to celebrate."

She stared at him, obviously still in shock. "What—you want to go _ballroom dancing_?"

"We can spend the night in a nice hotel, then leave around noon," he went on, watching her closely.

She gaped at him. "And go where—Switzerland? Australia? Or maybe Mexico, then be on the run the rest of our lives?"

"No!" he hissed, frustrated at their situation but encouraged by the fact that she hadn't refused, at least not so far. "Let me finish?"

"This is crazy! You're not thinking clearly, Will—"

"I've thought it all out—"

"Wait—I'm not even calling you by your name!" she choked, horrified at herself.

"That doesn't matter right now," he insisted, "what matters is that we love each other."

She looked stunned, her eyes filling with tears. "So it's that simple?"

"It is, unless you don't love me," he said quietly, his gaze holding hers. "And I do love you, Annie—I'd think you'd know that by now."

"I do," she croaked, leaning toward him as if she wanted the table between them gone. "But things are going so fast I can barely think of anything else! Is this wise? Would we even have a chance to be together?"

"Do you trust me?"

She stared at him in silence, then nodded. "Yes… I don't know why, but I just do."

"It's not what you're thinking," he said gently, reaching for her hand. When she gave it to him he held it in his, marveling at how small it felt. "I want you to meet my family."

"You have a family? Where?"

"In the Midwest...I grew up on a farm there, but it's been a while since I've been home."

She leaned closer. "Isn't that dangerous, for you to go back?"

He eyed their surroundings before getting up and sliding in next to her. Turning toward her he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "I'll make sure we don't have any problems."

"But then what? I meet your family and we live happily ever after with them?"

Reaching up to tuck a long strand of her hair behind her ear, he kissed her cheek, inhaling her fragrance. "Just take it in smaller pieces, ok?" he whispered.

She nestled closer, laying her head on his shoulder. "How long are you giving me to decide?"

He glanced away. "That's the problem…"

She gripped his lapel, making him look back down at her. Lifting her head, she studied his face. "Why _marry _me? Why not just run off together?"

"I want a family, Annie," he breathed. "I've wanted it for a long time."

"And you never met anyone to ask, before me?"

"No, I never did," he said, holding her gaze. "There was a woman named Maya…we were assigned to work together. She was supposed to be my girlfriend before I went to Yale, just to give me an identity. We had to pretend we were a couple, but we were both lonely. Things got out of control then, and we had to make a quick getaway before my cover was blown. I needed to get back to Yale, but they found her and killed her before I even suspected she was in any real danger."

She studied his expression soberly. "I'm so sorry."

He pursed his lips. "It was a mistake. We'd never planned to get involved, and even afterward no commitment had been made except to get to safety together…she's dead because of my carelessness."

"But you had no idea what was really going on," she argued, gripping his hand. "How could it be your fault?"

"I'm a soldier, Annie," he insisted. "I got involved when I shouldn't have, and she was left with nothing."

"But how are we different?" she asked, eyes filled with concern. "You're still in danger and that _man_—"

"I wish I could guarantee we'll get through this with no problem," he said, pulling her close. "But I want you in my life, Annie—no mistake, no accident, no moment of weakness."

She didn't look convinced. "I do love you," she sighed, smiling hopefully. "And I love the fact that you want to make an honest woman out of me."

He eased his arm off her shoulders. "This isn't a joke, Annie…I want you as my wife, and I want to have children with you."

She reached up to touch his face "How can I resist you?" she whispered, shaking her head as her eyes dropped to his lips.

"I need you Annie," he said. "I don't know what will happen but I need you in my life. I know it's selfish—"

"Then I accept," she agreed, taking his hand. "I'd marry you even if we only have a day or two together."

"Let's hope it's a lifetime," he breathed, eyeing the now crowded lobby. "Now, why don't we get out of here?"

_c. 2011 by Christine Levitt _


	5. Ch 5 The Journey

_**Chapter 5 The Journey**_

_**Annie gripped his hand, her heart pounding as the elevator doors opened. **_ His gaze shot to hers as he leaned halfway out, lifting a cautionary hand as he glanced down the corridor.

"All clear," he whispered, holding her gaze as they stepped out.

"I sure hope so," she breathed, following close behind him. Eyeing the fine fit of his suit across his broad shoulders, she noted how his hair just brushed the bottom of the collar. This close to him, she again caught the faint evergreen scent he seemed to have suddenly acquired. She didn't know how, but she decided it suited him perfectly.

Gripping his hand and balancing on her high heels, she checked the number of the rooms feeling a bit unsettled by how fast everything was moving. It was hard to grasp the reality of the fact that they were really married despite the official looking license she'd folded and hid in her purse. A blur of activity had led them quickly to the short civil ceremony with her mother and uncle as witnesses, past a celebratory meal and quick farewell while her mother knew nothing of the danger they were in. Howie had assured her he'd guard their secret for as long as necessary, taking part in the deception. Poor Mom, she'd been thrilled to meet Will despite the somewhat vague answers he'd provided her. He'd been patient and gracious, unwittingly charming her mother and reassuring her uncle without even trying.

Now, pausing before the door of their room he paused to study her expression, smiling just the right way to win her own trust and affection all over again. Lifting the key, he inserted it into the lock as she prepared herself for the prospect of a rushed weekend honeymoon. Smiling a bit nervously up at him, she ignored the tiny voice at the back of her mind telling her that she was marrying a virtual stranger. Unable to disagree, she had to admit that her new husband was not the same man she'd known in grad school, but a much more intense and serious man with secrets she could never begin to fathom. On the other hand, he was far too attractive and well mannered to resist. Over the past few hours she'd felt the weight of his gaze upon her, burning her like a physical touch whenever she'd looked into his eyes. Nothing could be hidden from that gaze, despite her natural tendency to hide.

Now, preceding him into their suite and hearing the bolt slide into place, she felt his gaze upon her. Despite her fluttery stomach and singed nerves she turned to face him, her heart pounding at how overwhelmingly attracted she felt to him. Wringing her hands, she smiled nervously as he walked slowly past her toward the windows and stopped to stare out at the beautiful night and far-off city lights. Going to his side, she gazed down at the incoming coastal fog and sighed with relief. He turned to study her profile, lifting an arm to the back of her shoulders. She moved closer, stepping to his side and winding her arm around the back of his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, curling a hand around her neck and kissing the top of her head. "So are you."

"We really did it," she wondered, lifting her hand and placing it on his chest. "We're married…"

He turned toward her, easing her into his arms. One hand teased her chin up for a gentle kiss before he pulled back enough to study her wistful expression. In the dim light of their room his eyes looked navy as he gazed into hers. "Hey, you ok?"

She nodded. "A little nervous, I guess," she admitted softly.

"Don't be," he said gently, pulling her closer as she rested her palms upon his chest. "Though it's probably natural, considering our situation."

She nodded. "Yeah, I suppose it is."

He lifted her hand, kissing it gently as he studied her expression. "Thank you for marrying me."

She stared back, then laughed softly. "You're welcome, I think."

"Well, now that we're done with the formalities, come here," he sighed, cupping her cheek to kiss her with gentle teasing kisses. "I love you, Annie," he whispered.

She kissed him back, sliding her hands beneath his jacket and urging it back off his shoulders. He shrugged his shoulders and removed it while she loosened his tie and undid the collar of his dress shirt. Eyeing the breadth of his shoulders, she felt his hand slip around the back of her own collar and begin to unfasten the hooks. They locked gazes until he'd opened his shirt and she'd stepped off her heels.

"I think we should close the curtains," he suggested softly, leaving her to do so.

"I'll be right back," she replied, aware of his eyes following her retreat into the bathroom.

Closing the door, she stepped toward the mirror and stared at her reflection, hardly believing the fancy upswept styling her mother had insisted upon doing. Reaching up, she covered her cheeks with her hands and tried to calm her racing heartbeat.

"Lord give me strength," she whispered, feeling flushed. Concerned for what was about to happen, she bent forward and splashed cool water on her cheeks. Reaching for a towel, she straightened and patted her skin dry. Undoing her blouse she waved her hand in an effort to cool herself down, thinking of the way Will looked at her and how he made her feel. Staring at the horrid blush creeping up her throat she prayed he wouldn't notice.

"He's so sexy," she whispered to her reflection, feeling a bit panicked, "and a great kisser."

A soft knock on the door startled her, and she gasped in surprise. _Had he heard?_

"You ok in there?" his deep voice reached through the door, stirring her almost as much as a physical touch.

"Yeah, fine!" she croaked, clearing her throat. "Just freshening up."

Grimacing at herself, she reached up and quickly took her hair down, finger combing it and wondering why she hadn't thought to bring in her bag.

"Stop being an idiot!" she hissed, checking her mascara and straightening her shoulders. Taking a cleansing breath, she turned and reached for the doorknob, opening the door to find him standing in the threshold, one hand resting upon the frame. He smiled knowingly down at her, his eyes missing nothing.

"Oh hi," she gushed, shoving her trembling hands behind her back. His gaze lowered to her breasts, their curves a bit exaggerated by the push-up bra which, she remembered, was clearly visible now that she'd unbuttoned her blouse. He looked up, his lips hinting at a smile as if he could read her mind. But in them she saw only warm approval and definite interest.

"Hi," he said gently, eyes twinkling. "I poured us some wine, in case you're interested."

"I'd love some," she declared, ducking beneath his arm and sweeping into the room. The lights were dimmed, bathing the room in an attractive golden glow. To her surprise the tv was on, displaying an old black and white movie. The bowl of fruit which had been placed next to it now stood on the end table, and the coverlet had been turned down. She looked up at him with a questioning gaze.

"I thought we could have a snack and catch the Hepburn-Bogart movie," he suggested, to which she nodded before going to the far side of the huge bed.

"That's a great idea," she smiled, planting a knee on the bed and climbing up. Settling herself against the headboard, she watched him lean back and reach for the wine and glasses. Handing the latter to her, he popped the cork and poured about an ounce of wine for them, then set the bottle aside.

His eyes held hers as he lifted his glass. "How about a toast?"

"Alright," she answered, moving closer and waiting.

"To us," he said simply, clicking her glass. Threading his arm through hers he waited before they drank together, enjoying the zinfandel as Bogart's voice droned softly in the background.

"It's good," she declared, smiling at him and feeling much more relaxed. She nodded toward the screen. "You really want to watch an old movie, tonight?"

"'course I do," he sighed, picking up two stems of grapes and handing her one. Popping one into his mouth he leaned his head back. "Come closer, Annie—I don't bite."

"I know," she snorted, eating a few grapes as she shifted closer, stretching her legs along his. With a contented sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I haven't seen a movie in years."

"Really…too busy working?" she teased, taking another swallow of wine.

"Exactly," he declared, lifting the glass and drinking it down while she studied the strong column of his neck as he did so. He turned to place their glasses onto the table, then reached for her hand.

She slid a bit lower as he lifted his arm and took her against his good side. She stretched her arm across his stomach, breathing in his scent. They watched the movie, laughing at the dramatic intensity of the two movie greats argue emphatically.

"This is a good icebreaker, don't you think?" he drawled.

"For a networking meeting," she smiled, gazing up at him. "But I appreciate the thought."

"Alright then, let's neck," he suggested, turning toward her with a smile and gathering her into his arms.

She felt his lips touch hers, sighing contentedly at the contact. The old soundtrack lifted and flowed softly into the room as they explored their passion. She slid her palm over his chest, then beneath his shirt until he shrugged free of it while she pulled off the blouse. Then his mouth settled over hers, taking her breath and stirring her blood until she pressed eagerly against the hard planes of his body.

Finally he pulled back and croaked with laughter. "God this is corny—hand me the remote, will you?"

She giggled and lifted it toward the screen, shutting off the tv. Tossing it toward the foot of the bed she curled into his welcoming embrace and lost herself in him, eager to discover all that she'd wondered about. Reaching up, she caressed his jaw as he kissed her deeply, feeling his hands in her hair before she reached up and unfastened her bra, tossing it aside as he pulled her into him. They wrestled and wound themselves together, then apart.

"You're amazing," he whispered, tracing his fingertips down the side of her breast as he kissed her. "So beautiful…"

"Come inside," she whispered as he lifted his head from her chest and studied her expression.

"You sure?" he whispered, kissing her briefly as he gazed into her eyes.

"Yes," she sighed, tracing the muscles of his shoulders as he braced her and stretched lower, his kisses and touches firing her senses and reaching deep inside.

She gasped with pleasure when at last they were one, holding him as he panted in an effort to rein in his self-control. He turned his head and kissed her deeply, then he began to move. Their dance was perfect, provocative and demanding, then beckoning and elusive. When at last he groaned as she soared again and again, she held him close though he turned them to their sides. Reaching up, she smoothed his hair back and traced her fingertips along his lower lip.

"I love you," he whispered, finally resting his head back and closing his eyes.

"I love you too," she sighed, kissing his neck as he drew the blankets up her back, his hand gently caressing her skin.

She closed her eyes and rested her cheek over his heart, the sparse dark hair on his chest tickling her nose. Lifting her hand, she gently smoothed it over his chest, opening her eyes to study the scars she discovered there.

"Wow," he sighed, unaware of the tears filling her eyes. He gently stroked his fingers through her hair, apparently enjoying the texture of it. "Who've known?"

Laughing softly, she swiped at the tears threatening to spill out onto his chest. "I'm glad you took a gamble on me," she whispered, lifting her head to study his expression.

"It wasn't a gamble," he sighed, tracing along her cheek with one fingertip. "It was a sure thing."

"Really? Well you're stuck with me either way," she informed him, resting her cheek upon his shoulder and slipping her arm around his side.

"Then I consider myself blessed," he whispered, gathering her close. Now rest up—we've got the whole night ahead of us."

"Ok," she sighed, letting him turn her again and loving the way he positioned them like spoons. She closed her eyes and gripped the arm wound around her, snuggling her bottom against him as he groaned softly. "Matthew."

He pulled her closer, inhaling the fragrance of her hair as his breathing slowed and soon deepened. She stroked his arm very gently, surprised to discover that she'd never felt safer in her life.

_**Matthew tried to concentrate on what Max was saying, distracted by the sight of his wife smiling in the sunlight, **_despite the wind tossing her hair all around her. He narrowed his gaze, studying the beautiful hue of her cheeks and the dark rose of her lips. Auburn highlights glinted in her hair and when she turned to meet his gaze she smiled. Something flooded his chest with warmth, either joy or contentment, maybe both. It was a foreign feeling, especially following all his years of intense training and the harsh loneliness of military life. While Max went on about his plans and gave him advice, he decided he'd finally found true love.

"Will—are you listening to me?" Max shouted from the earpiece of his new cell phone.

"Of course I'm listening," he drawled, knowing his concentration had been sabotaged by her presence in his life. "You said you've taken care of the body and that it should arrive in DC by 7."

"I never thought I'd see you go off the deep end like this, Will," Max insisted. "They'll never buy it, I'm warning you."

"It would help if you'd do the same," he sighed, nodding to Annie's gesture to follow her up the path. "I'm done hiding—it's no kind of life, not even for you."

"Let me think about it," Max surprised him by saying. "I suppose there's safety in numbers, even if it's a crazy move."

"Being on the run will cost you a lot more," he stated. "Regardless, I'm turning myself in as I already indicated. Join me, don't join me—it's on your head."

"Oh there you go again—no man left behind, huh?"

"Exactly," he sighed. "It's all we've got left, Max."

"Yeah well I'm not gullible, not anymore."

"You trained me, Max," he warned. "Do the right thing—over and out."

He cut him off before tossing the phone into the sewer, looking up to meet Annie's fading smile as she caught him. Walking to her side, he shoved his hands into his pockets and eyed her.

"What?"

She glanced around, eyeing him with a wary glance. "Who was that?"

"My former contact," he sighed, forcing a smile. "Don't worry—it'll work out eventually."

She fell in step with him as they headed back to the downtown area. "That's what bothers me, the word 'eventually.'"

He pulled his hand out and flung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "We need to head to the station."

"Please, Matt—tell me what's going on," he pleaded, her eyes traveling over his features.

"We're going home so you can meet the fam," he sighed, smiling down at her. "They'll love you."

"Yeah, then what?"

He shrugged. "We'll play it by ear."

"Yeah, of course we will," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Hey," he stated, pulling her into his arms without a care for the crowd milling around them. A few men passing by smiled knowingly at him, throwing him off for a moment before he realized they were just congratulating him for having such a beautiful woman in his arms.

"Don't leave me," she choked, winding her arms around his waist. "I know you're going to."

"Shhh, I'll make it up to you—I promise."

After a moment she pulled back, wiping away the tears on her cheek. "When?" she wanted to know.

"I can't answer that, I'm sorry," he replied, taking her hand as they started off again. "If only we had more time…"

_**Annie eyed her sexy husband, bored with the long wait before their connecting flight. **_As if sensing her regard he looked up, meeting her gaze with a wan smile before ending his call. She dropped the used magazine onto the table at her side as he came back toward her, reaching for her hand.

"They'll wait up for us," he sighed, shaking his head. "It's going to be late though."

"They must be thrilled," she answered, waiting for the details he usually held back. "Well—what did they say? You must have shocked them with that call."

"Yeah," he admitted with a half smile. "It took Mom about five minutes to stop asking if it was really me, am I ok, is it safe to call and when can they see me."

"What about your dad?"

"He finally took the phone from her, but he sounded choked up, too," he stated, his own voice breaking a bit at the memory. To her surprise his eyes moistened before he looked away. "I can't believe it's been five years since we last talked."

"Five years?"

He nodded, glancing up at the flight board. "Well we've only got an hour—want to take a walk?"

She studied the tired and drained expression on his face, deciding to distract him from all the pressures he faced. Lit by inspiration, she smiled as they started around the terminal again, passing the shops and food stations. Because of the late hour it wasn't crowded, and when she saw the restroom sign she knew this was their solution.

"Let's hit the restrooms one final time," she suggested, pleased when he followed her lead in that direction. As he started to part at the juncture of the different corridors she tugged on his hand. "I need help," she whispered, pulling him into the long corridor leading to the ladies' room.

"I can't go in here!" he protested in a whisper, glancing back over his shoulder.

"It's fine—nobody's around and I need help!" she hissed, opening the main door and smiling at the deserted and actually clean confines.

"This better be good, 'cause I could get in a lot of trouble—hey!"

She shut and locked the door behind them, backing into the huge handicapped room. Eyeing him hungrily as he looked as close to a blush as she'd ever seen, he laughed softly. "What _are _you doing?"

"Like I said, I need help," she half laughed, half ordered, rising on her toes to kiss him.

He froze, groaning softly before kissing her back. It was a hungry desperate kind of kiss that immediately fired her desire. Running a hand down his chest she touched him as he backed her into the wall, devouring her with an irresistible kiss. She sighed with satisfaction, pushing at his clothing until she could touch bare skin while he did the same. He lifted her easily as she opened herself to his awkward but highly arousing possession. When it was over they knew they'd enjoyed a wildly uncomfortable, thoroughly satisfying burst of lovemaking that took their breath away.

Leaning her head back, she cradled him against her neck, her body pulsing with life and aftershocks as he panted and laughed in amazement. He lifted his head, kissing her gently.

"Is that what was wrong?" he chuckled, kissing her hard as she came again in his arms.

When she could finally answer she kissed him juicily. "That was it," she admitted.

"We just can't seem to get enough of each other, can we?" he gasped, easing her down as they began to straighten their clothing.

"You shouldn't have checked us out of our hotel so fast," she teased, curling an arm around his waist.

"You're right," he admitted, treasuring her with his eyes. "I don't suppose we'll have too many opportunities over the next few days."

She frowned. "Next few days? But this is our honeymoon and I wanted you right out there on the street, while you were talking to your secret handler."

"Really?" he whispered with a smile, "what a provocative thought."

She smiled, trailing her fingers down his chest. "Just thought you'd like to know."

"Yeah, well thanks for that," he choked, glancing toward the door. "Hope nobody's out there—we'll have to make a quick getaway."

"Don't worry—if we're caught I'll just say I needed your help with a _female_ problem. No one will touch that with a 10 meter pole."

"No, I suppose not," he agreed. "Your craftiness frightens me sometimes."

She kissed him one last time, her hand on the door latch. "Good—ready?" she breathed, and when he nodded, she peeked out at the mirror. "Wait—my hair's a total mess!"

"Let's go—I like it like that," he whispered. "Let's go—our flight should be boarding soon."

"Then I'd like a raincheck—how about the shower next time?" she smiled mischievously.

"Ok," he smiled. "You have a deal."

_c. 2012 by Christine Levitt_

8


	6. Ch 6 The Return

_**Chapter 6 The Return …**__Hope you've enjoyed this story, which concludes with this chapter. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing cslev_

"_**I really have no idea what you're talking about," **__**James Westford repeated,**_ shaking his head as he locked gazes with his wife. "Well, I suppose anything's possible, with the media being what it is…No, I haven't seen Matthew in a few years thanks to the Army…Look it's getting late… there's no point in speculating, now I'm going to hang up… No—that's no one's business but our own, now _goodnight_," he growled, slamming the phone down. Shoving his hands onto his hips, he stared at his wife in disbelief.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself to those people?" he wondered.

"Did they believe you?" she worried, clenching the top of the chair with both hands.

"I don't care whether they believe me or not, what I want to know is how did all this get so blown up out of proportion?"

"But you saw that photo—if that isn't Matthew then he has a twin out there somewhere."

"But that photo is such poor quality," he insisted. "It's really not much to go on."

Sarah came to stand before him. "But what if it _was _him? What if he changed identities again?"

"He sent that telegram using the name Daniel Taft—that's all we know," he stated, glancing toward the clock. "We'd better get going in case his flight's on time."

"Alright but don't think the town gossips are going to give up," she predicted, reaching for her purse as he picked up his keys. "Wait a minute—what if someone finds out he's coming in?"

"There's no way—he's using another fake name," he reassured her, turning off the lights except the one over the kitchen sink. He waited while she preceded him out the door, then locked it and slid the deadbolt on. They walked to the car, where he opened the passenger door and waited until she settled inside. Shutting it, he went to the other side and climbed in behind the wheel.

"Erin's so excited to see him and introduce Caitlyn," she sighed. "It'll be nice for him to finally meet her."

"She'd better wait til 11 as agreed," he nodded, pulling out of the driveway. "Though I have the feeling he won't be staying long. We'll try to make the most of the time while he's here."

"He'll stay for his favorite dinner," she smiled, her face glowing in the light from the dash. "I've missed him so much…I just can't help worrying about him, despite all our prayers."

"I know," he admitted. "Let's be thankful he's able to even break away for a visit."

"Did he say where he's been, or what's next?" she wondered, gazing up the highway which was lit by bright moonlight.

"Not really…you know Matt—he's serious about the confidentiality of his position so don't pressure him to say more than he's allowed. I imagine he's seen the worst of it."

"This is so hard, Jim," she groaned. "I want to know everything about him—what he's done, where he's been."

"But he's Special Forces, honey—we have to be content with whatever he decides to share."

"Did he sound ok?"

"Yeah, a little tired but eager to see us."

"I wonder if he's still getting those headaches, or those awful fevers," she worried. "They should really take better care of them, given the dangers they put them in."

"Sounds like typical Gulf War syndrome if you ask me," he sighed. "I'm sure he's been involved in that arena at least some of the time."

"Well frankly I wish he'd retire early," she stated. "He's given so many years in service it's time to come home and settle down. We're not getting any younger and I want more grandchildren."

"So do I…and we could really use his help around the farm."

They fell into companionable silence, each lost in thought. Then he pointed ahead, glancing at her profile. "There's the highway up ahead…only half an hour to go."

She nodded. "Once we have him back I doubt I'll sleep at all," she admitted.

"I know…either way, it's gonna be a long night."

_**Will saw them before they spotted him,**_ his senses kicking into high alert while he glanced around one more time to survey their surroundings. After what had happened to Maya he wouldn't put it past his former associates to wipe them all out, if given the opportunity. Thankfully at this hour the airport was nearly deserted, though a few businessmen strolled wearily from baggage toward the exit, none of them looking particularly threatening. Sure that they were safe, he touched Annie's arm.

"They're here," he stated, glancing down at her with a grin. "They're gonna flip when they find out about you," he predicted.

"Probably not as much as my mother did," she sighed, curling her arm through his as they headed toward the older couple coming from the elevators.

He walked with her past the concessions, noting the exact moment they'd been noticed. His dad's face relaxed with relief at the same time his mother halted in her tracks, raising her hands to her mouth. Eyes wide, she cried for joy and started running toward them while his Dad shook his head good-naturedly and followed in her wake.

"Oh Matt!" she cried, rushing toward him and throwing her arms around him, "I'm so glad to see you!"

He hugged her close, picked her and swung her around with a laugh as she protested she was too heavy. Kissing her cheek, he set her back down to have a good look at her. "Hi Mom."

"Oh my word!" she exclaimed, gripping his hands, "it's been way too long!"

Suddenly he was swept by a wave of emotion as memories crashed over him. Regret stabbed him in the heart as he gently squeezed her hands. "You're right," he croaked, grieving for all he'd lost by being away. Then he remembered Annie.

"Come here," his father interrupted, grabbing him in a bear hug and holding him tight. Patting his father's back, he sensed the same emotions in him.

"Dad," he choked, finally easing apart to look at him. "Thanks for coming."

"We've missed you," he cried, tearing his gaze from him to glance at Annie with a questioning look.

He held out his arm toward her. "Dad, Mom…there's someone I'd like you to meet."

She stood a few feet away, gripping her carry-on and watching them with a hopeful expression as a blush crept up her cheeks. Then she came to his side, winding her arm around his back as he curled his arm around her shoulders.

"This is Annie—my wife," he stated, eyeing them carefully. For a moment no one said anything, then the shock began to wear off. Their faces brightened considerably, and Annie stuck out her hand.

"I'm so happy to meet you, Mrs. Westford," she smiled, gripping his mom's hand. Then turning to reach for his father's, she shook it eagerly. "Mr. Westford…I've heard so much about both of you."

"Your _wife?_" his mother croaked, eyeing him before grasping Annie in her arms. "Bless the Lord—you're Matthew's _wife? _What a wonderful surprise! I'm thrilled!"

"We married two days ago," he told them, guilty for having deprived them of a chance to be involved.

But his father hugged her gently, his face beaming. "Well I'll be…you're always full of surprises Matt, but this one's got to top them all!"

She came back to his side as he hugged her close, planting a kiss on her temple. "You guys must be tired," he sighed, quickly dispensing with the formalities. "We've been flying all day, haven't we Annie?"

She nodded. "Since 6 a.m."

"Then let's go," his dad urged, glancing back the way they'd come. "We're still not through."

"I know," he sighed, watching his mom link arms with Annie as they walked toward the elevators.

"You've answered our prayers, bringing your little wife home," his dad admitted, eyes bright with mischief. "None of us are getting any younger, you know."

"Yeah, I know," he agreed, pulling Annie closer while they waited for the elevator.

"Well our congratulations, to both of you!" his mother gushed, shaking her head. "It's about time."

"Wait til your sister finds out," his dad added. "I can almost hear the screams of delight."

"How is she, and the baby?" he asked, stepping into the elevator. "God—has it really been _six years_?"

"Six and a half," his mom stated. "We've missed you fiercely, but it's not your fault of course!"

"It must be hard for all of you," Annie added, glancing up at him with a knowing smile. _I can't go without him for more than a few minutes,_ he read in her expression.

In that moment he was hit with the realization of what he was about to do. Stunned by the pain of it, he again questioned his own decision. _Dear God—how can I leave her? I just found her!_

"You alright, son?" his father interrupted, bringing him back to the present.

"Huh? Oh fine," he sighed, forcing a smile for their benefit. "Just tired, that's all."

"Well we have to warn you, Erin's coming over in the morning," his mom stated. "I told her not to come noon so you can catch up on your rest. As soon as we get home I'm going to make up the guest room for you—"

"It's fine, Mom," he reassured her. "We'll just use my room."

"Sorry but that's an even bigger mess," she insisted. "All your gear is stored in there since we're adding more insulation to the attic."

"She's right," his dad stated. "We just didn't expect a visit anytime soon, not that we didn't want one."

He started to protest but felt Annie nudge him with her elbow.

"It's a good thing I did some spring cleaning earlier this year or we'd be pulling boxes of clutter off the bed in there too."

"Ok, the guest room it is," he stated while Annie thanked them again."

"No problem," she waved. "And I just so happened to make your favorite dinner, though it's too late to eat that."

"You kiddin?" he snorted, glancing at Annie, who nodded. "We're starving, actually."

"He's right," she agreed. "We only had salads for lunch. I could go for a something more substantial."

"Well good—maybe you're a farm girl in disguise then," his mom smiled as they exited the terminal.

"Car's over there—on the 4th level," his dad informed them.

"Mom makes the world's greatest chicken cacciatore," he told Annie. "You're gonna love it."

"I'm sure I will," she laughed as they followed his parents to the car. "How long a drive to your house?"

"Oh, the farm's at least 45 minutes away," he smiled, gently massaging the base of her neck.

"It'll give us plenty of time to get acquainted," his mom stated, opening her door and pausing. "Come here, Matt—I want another hug to make up for all the ones I've missed."

"Sure thing," he smiled, pulling her against his good side. "It's been hard for me too— I really missed you guys, and I can't wait to see the farm."

"We've added another six acres," his dad said proudly," down by the creek."

"You bought the old Johnson place?" he marveled, glancing at his mom. "They finally sold?"

"Just last fall," she nodded, eyeing Annie. "He used to sneak over there and swim with his buddies when he thought we weren't watching."

"Mom—she doesn't need to know that kind of stuff—" he waved, feeling embarrassed and hoping his mother didn't mention how they even tried skinny dipping during one particularly hot summer.

"Yes I do," she insisted. "Those are _exactly_ the kind of details I _crave_."

"Well we could talk about that for years," his mother smiled, getting into the car. Half turning to look back at them as they snuggled close in the back seat, she sobered. "But most of all we want to hear about what you've gone through, honey."

"No pressure, now," his father warned her as he started the engine. "Let's have our small talk and get to know Annie first."

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, resting their joined hands atop his thigh. Annie rested her head on his shoulder while they pulled out of the parking space.

They shared news as they drove toward the highway, and it wasn't long before Will began to feel at rest, almost as if at peace despite everything that was going on. Somehow he had the sense that things were going to work out, though he couldn't begin to explain why.

"Tell us about your family," his mom encouraged Annie, half turning around. "But don't be offended if I turn toward front now and then—I don't want to get a stiff neck."

So it was that Annie began her summary of her life, giving him the chance to relax and study her. Little by little he gained more insight into the woman he'd married. Content to listen to the sound of her voice he closed his eyes, thankful for his parents and for her presence in his life. Then his mind began to wander toward darker thoughts as he wondered how long they might manage to stay together. The reality of what he was planning to do hit him hard in that moment, accompanied by all the doubts and fears about his future. He forced himself to face the distinct possibility of never being with her again, or with his parents and the weight of that grief pressed down upon him.

Feeling her squeeze his hand he opened his eyes. She was gazing at him, her troubled expression dimly lit by the light from the dashboard.

"That's pretty much it," she stated casually, eyeing him meaningfully. "I'm so grateful for having Matt in my life. It's been worth every second."

His mother turned to study them in silence. Then she nodded. "Well Annie, we're happy to have you as part of the family now."

"She's an amazing woman," he agreed, meeting his dad's glance in the rearview mirror. "It sure is good to be back…" he sighed despite the reservations in his mind.

_**Annie studied his parents' unreadable expressions, her heart going out to them. **_Will—or Matthew—had just told them probably the worst news they could ever have imagined. Not to mention the worst news for her though she couldn't deny it was what she'd feared all along. He was leaving in the morning to turn himself in, and her heart ached for him as well as for her own loss. Still, she had to admit that she couldn't help but respect him for that decision. It would be difficult, she guessed, though a life of running from the "law" would be much worse. He'd always be looking over one shoulder, as he'd told them, always hunted by someone yet never knowing who or when he'd be caught. It was certainly no way to live, and he'd insisted he wouldn't put them through that, no matter what might happen to him.

"There's no other way," he sighed, rubbing the stubble on his chin with his hand. "I'm sorry, but it's something I just have to do. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

His father dropped his head, obviously struggling with the news while his mother choked back a sob.

"But you just got here," she protested, her eyes wet. "We can't lose you again, Matthew."

He shook his head. "If I don't do this I'll never be able to come back…_never._"

"But surely there's something we can do, find a lawyer or appeal to the Army," his mom cried.

"It's the only way to protect you, all of you," he sighed heavily. "I wish there was some other way."

His dad looked up. "You sure about this, Matt? What if they make you the fall guy, or worse make you disappear?"

"There's been too much publicity for them to do that," he stated. "I've got to think of Jay and Tyler too. I've tried to get word to Tyler to turn himself in, but I can't be sure he'll get it. Even his father has no idea where he is. Jay's already done the right thing—I can't let him hang in there alone. He needs my help."

"But what about us, and Annie?" his mother cried, swallowing her grief as she met her gaze.

"I knew he was going to do this when I married him," she admitted, noting the spark of love in Will's eyes. In that moment she felt such a strong connection with him it took her breath away.

"She agreed to marry me anyway, God only knows for what reason," he said, a tender smile lingering at his lips.

"I'd decided he was worth it, even if we only had a short time to be together," she told them.

"Well then you're one amazing young woman," his father stated, narrowing his gaze on Will. "We'll back you up, if you decide to do something else."

Will shook his head. "I've gone over it a thousand times, Dad…it's the right thing to do. All I ask is that you keep an eye on Annie for me, while I'm gone."

"You can do that yourself when you're acquitted," he stated soberly, meeting her gaze. "But you know you have a home with us, for as long as you want to stay."

She nodded. "Thank you, sir." Will took her hand and raised it to his lips. She almost lost it when he kissed her knuckles, his eyes dark as navy and filled with longing. _I love you_ they told her.

"When are you—" his mother started to say but couldn't finish. She dabbed a tissue beneath her nose and looked away. "This is just too much for me…I'm sorry."

"I'll be back, Mom," he promised, squeezing her hand. "You'll see, everything will work out."

"We'll be in prayer, son…you do whatever it takes," his father promised, and in that moment Annie believed him completely.

Will stretched and got up, tugging her hand. She stood, leaning into his side as he announced that it was time for bed. "I'm beat…you guys need to get some rest too. I love you both."

His mom scooped him into her arms, kissing his head before hurrying away. His father hugged him, then gave her another hug. "Glad you're here for him," he told her softly.

She nodded as Will guided them toward the stairs. They climbed to the second floor and entered the guest room, which he eyed with some distaste.

"What's the matter?" she whispered, winding her arms around him. He sighed, pulling her under his chin. For a moment neither of them said anything. Then he chuckled.

"I was hoping we could squeeze into my old twin bed, you know—for sentimental value."

She leaned back, shaking her head. "I'd have thought you'd want plenty of room to say goodbye," she whispered back, flooded with emotion but smiling anyway.

He kissed her hard, gripping her close. "I love you so much," he croaked, lowering his head to her shoulder. She held him tightly until he sighed and disengaged himself.

"Take a hot shower and work out the kinks," she smiled, draping the coverlet back and plumping the pillows. "It'll relax you."

He ducked in front of her, clasping her waist. "Only if you join me," he whispered back.

She gasped in shock, eyeing the door. "But your parents!"

"We'll be quiet," he smiled, tugging her toward the bathroom. "I think there's a rain check awaiting us."

"Alright, but you have to promise not to tickle me and make me laugh," she warned.

He nodded. "I'll behave myself."

They spent an inordinate amount of time in that pursuit, then lay in each other's arms without speaking for some time afterward. Sometime in the middle of the night they made love again and this time he fell into a deep sleep in her arms. She held him close while staring into the moonlight streaming in through the window and listening to the sound of his breathing. She dozed off into a light, troubled sleep.

She was aware of him moving about the room and turned to check the clock, finding him dressed in black. He sat gently upon the edge of the bed, watching her until she blinked her eyes fully open. Then he leaned close while she gripped his arms, answering his passionate kisses with a desperation she felt deep within her soul. Then, with a frustrated sigh he tore himself away and turned to gather his things. She watched him go to the door, backpack slung over one shoulder. With his hand on the doorknob he turned, lingering for one last moment and holding her gaze. Then he slipped from the room, closing the door behind him. She waited a moment, then got up and went to the window.

After a few minutes she saw him across the yard, slipping into the shadows along the side of the barn. Another few minutes passed before she watched the old pickup truck he'd mentioned learning how to drive with start slowly up the hill without headlights. At the top he touched the brakes for a moment, then it slid from view. Shuddering with a sob of grief, she stared after it for some time, hugging herself and facing the fact that he was gone.

_**Staring at Max across the distance, Will shifted his gaze back to Freed again. **_Listening intently to his former CO's concluding statements regarding their military service, he marveled at how well Freed looked for a man whom he'd last seen trapped in a burning limousine. Apparently he'd enjoyed the past six months living a life of luxury in some plush condominium overseas until finally being traced and deported back to the US. Marveling at the details Max was outlining, he wondered how he'd managed to find and garner the support of such a nebulous and widely scattered consortium of ex-agents now seated before them, all of whom Freed had used and betrayed. He couldn't help but smile at the typically subtle fashion in which Max operated, working behind the scenes until bursting forth with some unbelievably successful plan and solving all their problems. He'd gotten him out of many a tight spot with the same finesse, insisting he was just doing his job the best way he could given the circumstances. Now, studying the two dozen men, some of whom he thought he recognized from past ops in various locales, he couldn't help wonder how many of them had cooperated willingly and how many Max had threatened. Still here they all were, each with their own list of dirty jobs Freed had assigned them and all eager to help bring him down. Freed had fooled them all for a while. Meeting Max's knowing look, Will nodded his approval for a job well done. _Good for you, Max._

_We're finally bringing him down, all of us, _Max's expression replied. _Nobody's going to be his fall guy, especially if we all band together and provide the evidence of his crimes._

Freed looked up, smiling wanly at Will and making him shudder. He was horrified and amazed how he could still make him feel threatened even now, when Freed himself was clearly in deep trouble. But nothing stopped him, thanks to his overinflated ego.

Straightening in his chair, Will cleared his throat as Max sat down while the courtroom erupted in murmurs. Order was called and they quieted down, then the concluding remarks were made by the military prosecutor. They had all kinds of proof indicting Freed, plus the support of both the CIA and FBI who corroborated their stories and urged acquittal for all secret ops agents of the Fourth Branch. Finally it was exposed, at least within the military, though he was sure it would be kept top secret.

He glanced toward Agent Marlow, who met his gaze with a sober nod. She had been the one to discover and follow the paper trail which finally led to Freed, indicting him for treason and conspiracy. After months of extensive interrogations, closed hearings and debriefings it was finally about to come to an end, and he couldn't wait.

For the past year he'd endured countless interrogations, being kept up all night and bombarded with repeated questions which had nearly driven him insane. He'd been harassed verbally, beaten physically and been denied food for days while being labeled a traitor or double agent. Over the past month he'd been placed in solitary confinement, which had been especially difficult in light of his being denied all contact with family or the outside world since the day he'd turned himself in. He'd raged, cried, mocked, been cynical and bitter, prayed himself back toward sanity, then repentance until he finally found a modicum of peace. Then quite suddenly and unexpectedly he'd been yanked into the infirmary, fully checked out, given IVs, a full shower and new set of clothes right before entering this very courtroom. With Freed's apparently final admission of guilt and plea bargaining, everything had suddenly changed. Within 42 hours he'd gone from suspected terrorist and traitor to victim, thanks to Freed's confession. The speed at which it had all happened nearly took his breath away. But life had definitely changed.

Once the motion was made to dismiss all charges against him, as well as against Max and their fellow Unit operatives, he grimly accepted the verdict of innocence with the stipulation that they be discharged without honor. It wasn't fair after all the years of serving his country behind the scenes in extremely dangerous conditions, being wounded countless times and denied any form of a normal life. Yet by now all he had the energy for was to accept that difficult news and move on. Eyeing the clock, he took note of the dates of debriefing and estimated discharge, then let his mind drift toward a more pleasant arena. In spirit he traveled far from the courtroom and Fort Bragg over the miles separating him from Annie. Pain shot through him at the thought of her, but he wondered what she was doing at this exact moment. Half listening to the usual warnings not to expose any of his experiences to the public and to maintain the utmost level of secrecy even after discharge, he tried once again to picture her smile. This had gotten more and more difficult over his prolonged imprisonment, so much so that he wondered if he accurately remembered the way her eyes lit with excitement, the sound of her voice, and how it felt to become one with her.

When silence suddenly reigned all around him he came back to the present, just before cheers broke out all around him. He sat stunned and looking around in confusion, wondering what he had missed. As if in a dream he watched the other Unit members shoot to their feet, raising their arms and their eyes in thanksgiving as everyone rose to leave. MPs surrounded them, bringing him to his feet as he glanced toward the place where Freed had been sitting. He no longer sat there in calm defiance, but was being led off by four MPs, hands cuffed behind his back just like theirs had been. Then to his delight one of the MPs appeared before him, reaching up to take his arm and unlock his cuffs. Then he dropped to one knee and unlocked the ankle cuffs. When he rose they eyed each other soberly before Will nodded to him.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, stretching his sore wrists while the man smiled.

"No problem…take care now," he murmured before turning to one of the other soldiers. They began to form a line for the exit, each congratulating the other. Many of them thanked him for hanging in there and helping them all get out.

"Thank _you,_" he insisted, knowing that without their testimonies he'd probably still be in custody. For now he felt able to deal with the next few days of debriefing, especially armed with the knowledge that he would be leaving this place and service to what he'd thought had been to his country, for good. Feeling a hand on his back he turned to find Max nearby, his face split by a huge grin.

"Well done, man," he stated, shaking his hand. "You had a good idea for once."

He smiled. "Yeah, I suppose I did."

"You goin' home?"

"'course," he replied, nodding to him. "Thank you for all you did...you're the best, man."

"Yeah," he said, slapping his shoulder as he left, eager to get to the front of the line. "Be in touch."

Agent Marlowe came toward him as he edged closer to the door. He thanked her for all her help but she shook her head, touching his arm.

"I'm sorry I shot you," she apologized, her expression lit with a sheepish smile. He laughed despite himself.

"All in the line of duty," he replied. "But thanks for all your help—for Jay and Tyler too."

"They're both fine, now that we're done with questioning them. They want to see you, after you've had time to settle," she told him, walking with him next to the line. "Tyler contacted me a week ago, saying he was tired of being on the run."

"Good," he sighed, suddenly eager to be on his way.

"And Maya's mother would like to speak with you at some point," she told him quietly. "Maya's journal and documents were invaluable, and helped us establish your case more firmly."

He sobered, bracing for the guilt that always seemed to accompany the subject of Maya. "Alright..."

"I'll let you know when she's cleared," she nodded. "We'll try to get that settled before you can leave."

"I'd appreciate that," he called before the line pressed him through the door toward debriefing.

_**Annie laughed happily, swinging Michael just above the water so that it tickled his bare feet. **_He giggled with delight, his eyes wide at the sparkling lights dancing on the water. Clutching her arms with his tiny hands, he kicked his feet to splash as much water as he could until she was half soaked.

"Time to go clean up for supper," she finally insisted, lifting him to her shoulder even as he protested and reached back down toward the water. "We'll come back tomorrow if it's nice out," she promised.

Climbing the small river bank she bent to reach for the towel, swirling it around his tiny shoulders and touching her forehead to his. He hugged her neck as she held him close, breathing in the scent of baby lotion and sweet smell of his dark hair.

The heat sizzled around them, a bit diminished by the descending late afternoon sun and lifting breeze. The creek gurgled merrily over the rocks as the grass waved around them. As she gathered up their things she paused, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Straightening, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being watched, and went on the alert. Then, as if in slow motion she turned her head toward the place from where she felt it originated, gazing up to where the path led back to the house. Then she froze.

A man stood watching them, backlit by the sun and preventing her from seeing him clearly. With a pounding hear she squinted against the light, sensing something familiar about the way he stood. The air crackled between them as he stood without moving. Suddenly melting with recognition, she felt her heart leap for joy as he started toward them, watching her clutch Michael close. He stopped a yard from them, turning slightly as he stared at her in silence, eyes glinting in the light. They were such beautiful eyes, incredibly blue with glittering specks of silver.

"Annie?" he said thickly, his gaze dropping to the baby before shooting back up to burn her with its intensity.

She parted her lips, holding his gaze as her insides turned to liquid. He'd always had that effect upon her, heightening her senses to an almost unbearable degree. Moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue she watched his eyes focus upon them as she managed to croak his name. Reaching out, she placed her hand upon his back.

"Will!" she croaked, tears welling up in her eyes as he stepped closer. He put his arm around her as she buried her face against his neck while Michael squirmed between them for attention. "Oh Will," she cried before he reached up and cupped her cheek. Gazing up at him, she closed her eyes as his lips sealed hers with a welcoming kiss. It melted her insides and made her weak in the knees. _He was back!_

He pulled away a bit, feasting his eyes on her face. "I dreamt of this," he said in a hoarse voice before kissing her again and again. Finally he pulled back to stare at Michael, an anguished expression on his face as their eyes locked again.

"This is Michael," she said softly, lifting him while he placed both hands beneath Michael's arms. Taking him from her, he cradled him against his chest, looking into her eyes as the baby nestled closer.

"I—I wasn't there for you," he croaked, swallowing with difficulty and shaking his head. "I should have been there, for both of you."

She pressed closer, sliding a hand into the back of his hair. It was blonde again, lit by the sun with golden highlights. His free arm dropped to her hip, pulling her against his side as she gripped his arms.

"You got me pregnant in just two weeks," she accused softly, looking up into his burning gaze, "and I love you for it…I love you so much, more than I can even say."

Michael cooed, fisting his little hands in his half-opened shirt. He laughed softly, gently disengaging one of his hands, which he wrapped around his thumb. "He's got quite a grip," he said, his eyes taking on a haunted look before he looked away, obviously deeply affected by the sight of his son.

"When did you get out?" she asked gently, running a hand down his chest. He turned his head, catching her hand and lifting it to his lips.

"Yesterday," he croaked, searching her features. "I've been on the train ever since."

"Why didn't you call? Where on earth were you, at Fort Bragg? No one would tell us anything."

"It's SFOD," he stated, shaking his head at her bewildered expression. "Counter Terrorism, Special Ops…all top secret. Always has been, always will be," he said bitterly.

"What happened to you, Wi—I mean _Matt,_" she said, obviously annoyed with herself. "I'm sorry—it's just that with your hair back to normal I still see you as Will from Yale."

"Call me Will if you want," he said gently. "I don't mind…it was my name then, when we first met."

"But you weren't _Matthew_," she insisted. "Will wasn't the real you."

"Yes it was," he said huskily, bending his head to one side to kiss her tenderly. "It's always been me, Annie."

She traced his lips with her fingertips. "If we weren't in plain view of the whole county I'd say lie down with us," she said softly, her eyes eating him up. He looked so handsome and masculine, though thinner than before. Judging by the haunted look in his eyes she knew he'd suffered things she couldn't even begin to imagine.

He gazed into her eyes, even into her soul it seemed. "There's nothing I'd rather do," he whispered, glancing toward the direction of the house. "But you're right—we should have the privacy we need and deserve, after all this time."

She reached up to touch his cheek, then the bruise near his temple revealed when the breeze lifted his hair. "What did they do to you?" she whispered.

He closed his eyes, relishing her touch while he kept her other hand. The baby rested his head upon his collarbone, she noticed.

"Is this really happening?" she whispered. "Is it finally over?"

He opened his eyes, nodding once. "We're free," he sighed, cuddling Michael against his neck, his hand gently patting his back. "I've been discharged, as have the others. Freed was found alive in Switzerland-Agent Marlowe traced him and helped arrange his deportation. He finally admitted everything, and will be in jail for a very long time. They exonerated the whole unit he'd commandeered, though none of us was granted an honorable discharge."

"Oh Will," she sighed, "I'm so sorry…I know what that must have done to you. I wish I could have been there, through everything."

He nodded, glancing away.

"We tried so hard to see you but nothing worked, even though your dad and I went crazy calling lawyers and pouring over legal sources. They wouldn't even allow anything to be mailed to you—not even the birth announcemen…." her voice broke as tears slid from her eyes.

"Shhh," he whispered, reaching up to catch them away. "I know…it's alright. We're together now."

She studied his expression a moment. "You're right…I just feel so guilty."

"I'm the one who feels guilty for leaving you, and Michael."

"No, you did the right thing," she insisted, holding his hand between hers. "No guilt allowed, ok? Not for you, or for us."

"Alright," he sighed, glancing in the direction of the house. "I didn't see anyone home."

She shook her head. "They went to visit your grandfather at the home," she told him. When he looked back into her eyes she smiled dreamily, starved for the sight of him.

After a moment she saw one brow lift, making her blush. Bending to pick up her bag, she heard him say, "So we have the whole place to ourselves?"

She straightened, smiling up at him. "Correct, Captain."

He studied her a moment, eyes narrowing. "How'd you know my rank?"

She shrugged. "Your dad—he's been showing me all your papers and awards—not that I wasn't already impressed," she added with a smile.

He studied her, longing in his eyes. Immediately she knew what he needed—the same thing she needed. Turning with him, she started back toward the house feeling a bit awkward and hating what the separation had done to them. But he needed her even more than she needed him, which was something, considering her own feelings. Telling herself that he was back for good, she relaxed at the thought of no more running or looking over his shoulder and best of all no one hunting him down.

"Your mom made chicken cacciatore," she said matter of factly, loving the way he held Michael and the bond they had already developed. Michael had never taken to any guy before, except for Granddad of course.

At her comment he turned his head to gaze into her eyes, shooting a thrill of excitement through her entire body from just that one look.

"Really?" he replied, glancing up the path as it turned. "She seems to have a sixth sense sometimes."

"I know," she agreed, remembering the day Michael came into the world. His mom had been sure of it being the day, despite a false alarm early in the morning. But she'd been right, accurately predicting the day of his birth within hours.

"I'm pretty hungry," he said carefully, glancing at her with interest. _But not necessarily for chicken…_

"Here," she offered, pulling the bottle of milk from her bag and extending it to him. "After Michael has his feeding he takes a nap for an hour or two, right about this time of day."

He took it from her and directed it toward his son, who lifted his head from his shoulder and gripped it with both hands, beginning to suck at it eagerly. Over his head their eyes met.

"Sounds like a good idea," he whispered, eyes devouring hers before his lips parted. "I love you," he added, drawing her closer as she wound her arm around his waist. The house was within sight now, and as they approached it she remembered her arrival here over a year ago.

"I haven't managed very well, without you," she admitted, lifting her eyes to the window of the guest room where she'd stood weeping as he slipped from the house to go turn himself in. At his silence she turned to meet his waiting gaze. "I just love you too much."

By the time they entered the silent house Michael was already dozing on Will's shoulder after having downed four ounces of milk. They went upstairs to the nursery and Will gently laid him in his crib, pausing to stare down at him until she touched his back. He looked up.

"He'll sleep now," she whispered, turning the baby monitor on. "We can listen from the other monitor."

He nodded, stretching to his full height and following her toward their room. Once inside she locked the door and leaned back against it, watching his every move. He faced the window while she admired the strong breadth of his shoulders. Then he turned, coming closer to put his hands on her arms.

"Forgive me, for leaving you," he pleaded, his expression tortured.

"There's no need," she smiled, placing a hand on his chest. Gently caressing him, she smiled. "Welcome home."

Suddenly he moved closer, pinning her against the door as his hands lifted to her face. Kissing her hungrily, he eased off after a while, gently nibbling at her lips and dipping in to taste her until she closed her eyes and moaned, gripping his arms for support. Lost to his kisses, she inhaled the scent that was uniquely his, welcoming him with tears filling her eyes. Then he guided her back, gently lowering her to the bed before pressing against her. She opened herself to him, sliding her hands through his hair as they feasted on each other's love. When he finally came inside her she cried out softly, overwhelmed with love and passion and gripping him as tightly as she could.

"I kept trying to think of you, of us together," he whispered close to her ear as he cradled her against his bare chest. "It's the only thing that kept me going."

"It was the same with me," she admitted, gently caressing his neck. "Don't ever leave me again."

"I won't," he promised, kissing her tenderly.

She rested her cheek over his heart, feeling his arms come up around her. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, a contented sigh tickling her hair. Within minutes he was sound asleep.

She closed her eyes, breathing his name and thinking of the One who had brought them back together.

"Thank you," she sighed, a smile upon her lips.

She heard the baby turn in his sleep, the sound magnified by the baby monitor. Drifting off to sleep, she pictured father and son laughing and running through the wheat field.

_c. 2012 by Christine Levitt_

16


End file.
